Beyond Good and Evil
by obsessive24
Summary: A 'virtual ending' to the series. Tru finds herself reliving a day over and over when her friends and family just won’t stop dying, while Jack realises that his calling might not be as clear-cut as he’d originally thought. COMPLETE.
1. Prologue & Part One

**SPOILERS: **All episodes, in particular the end of season 1 and the six episodes from season 2.

**Disclaimers: **I own none of the characters from Tru Calling, and I don't claim ownership of any of the episodes.

**Summary:** A 'virtual ending' to the series that takes place one week after episode 2x06. Tru finds herself reliving a day over and over when her friends and family just won't stop dying, while Jack realises that his calling might not be as clear-cut as he'd originally thought. Together, they fumble their way through a causal chain of events that lead to revelations about their interlinked fates, and what they must do to put everybody's destinies back in balance.

**Author's Note: **This fic is my personal answer to the unsatisfactory ending to the series. I hope it wraps up some of the more important plot points and questions. I know there are small indiscrepancies from canon, particularly concerning Carrie's backstory and the lack of Jensen's own contributory actions toward his fate, but for the purposes of this story being streamlined, I had to decide to overlook them. For those who have not been able to see episode 2x06, an understanding of the episode is not crucial to this story, though certain scenes will make more sense if you have seen it. Feel free to contact me if you don't know where you can get recaps of the episode.

**-----**

_That which is done out of love always takes place beyond good and evil._

**-** Nietzsche

**-----**

**Prologue**

The morning dawned cold and subdued, a thin layer of grey-white clouds shielding the sun from direct view, leaving only a bright blurry imprint in the sky. A chill winter breeze swirled through a clearing in the cemetery, making Tru Davies' hair stream out behind her as she laid a bouquet of white roses at the foot of a headstone.

She stepped back, her eyes cast downward. Beside her, Richard and Harrison Davies also stood, the father in a long black coat and the son in a muted suit, both their heads bowed: one dark, one fair.

Their eyes were trained on the name inscribed on the headstone, and for a long time no one spoke.

_Elise Davies_

_Beloved wife and mother_

Tru stared down at the epitaph, her gaze travelling over the deeply-etched lines with a mixture of sorrow and pride. As she stood there, Harrison took a step forward and wrapped an arm around her shoulder. She leaned back into him, glancing up with a wistful smile.

Richard's eyes, too, travelled over the headstone. His expression was inscrutable.

"Hey," a low voice startled them out of their reverent silence.

Tru turned first, her expression of mild surprise quickly melting into a smile. "Hey Jensen," she greeted the intruder. "What are you doing here?"

"Taking a walk," Jensen Ritchie replied, looking quizzically at the Davies men. "And you…?"

"It's my mother's birthday today," she replied.

"Oh, wow," he said quickly, casting a contrite glance over the grave, then at the others, "I didn't realise… I'm sorry, Tru, I didn't mean to…"

"It's okay," she said. "Really. Jensen, you remember my brother Harrison. And you met my dad at the Christmas party."

"Of course, of course," Jensen said, nodding at Harrison while extending a hand toward Richard. "It's good to see you again, sir."

"Likewise," Richard said warmly, shaking his hand. "How are you, Jensen?"

"I'm good, thanks for asking," Jensen said, glancing nervously at Tru before turning back to the other man. "And you?"

"Still spry," Richard chuckled. "And that's about as good as we could expect at my age. Well," he glanced at his watch, "I'm afraid I have to fly, kids. I have an appointment at eleven."

"Great, I'll see you later, dad," said Harrison. "Did I tell you I'm movin' into the apartment today? Me and Tru are celebrating New Year's Eve at my new pad tomorrow. Think you could drop by?"

"Sure, son," Richard said hurriedly, checking his watch again as he began to stride away. "Give me a call this evening, okay? And Tru, you too, keep in touch. It's good to see you, Jensen. I must make Tru bring you to lunch sometime…"

"Bye dad," Tru waved at Richard's retreating figure, chuckling as she turned to see the look on Jensen's face. "What?"

"Lunch with the parentals," Harrison said in a singsong voice. "It's like a death sentence, man. I'll see you later, guys. Jensen, you're coming to my party tomorrow, right?"

"I'll be there," Jensen replied, smiling.

"Awesome," Harrison grinned. Turning back to Elise's headstone, he paused with an unusually solemn expression, his features softening. It was a moment before he sauntered off, waving goodbye over his shoulder.

Tru, too, said a quiet farewell to her mother's grave before she took Jensen's hand and turned away, casting another glance over her shoulder at the bunch of white roses resting on the ground, their satiny petals stirring in the breeze.

"I'm so sorry to interrupt like that," he said again as they walked toward the front entrance. "I just… I guess I wasn't thinking when I said hi. I'm so embarrassed."

"Don't be, we were done." There was a beat, and she glanced at him quizzically. "What are you doing here, anyway?"

"I dunno," he said after a long pause. "I was just… nah, you'll think it's weird."

"Try me," she said with a note of wryness to her voice.

His glance in her direction was measured, as though gauging her reliability. "Well," he said, somewhat reluctantly, "this is gonna sound weird, but lately I've been feeling kinda strange, you know? Like… distanced from everything. Coming to cemeteries and churches and stuff, it's morbid but it seems to help me think. It feels… peaceful here."

Her eyes widened almost imperceptibly as she looked at him. "Really?" she asked, trying to keep her voice light. "How long has this been going on?"

He shrugged. "Two or three weeks, maybe. I think… after you saved me from that car. It's been a life-changing experience for me, Tru. I'm just re-evaluating everything right now. Nothing feels quite real, you know what I mean?"

She stared at him, her dark eyes betraying a hint of disquiet.

"It's nothing," he shook his head with a smile, striding forward. "Seriously. I dunno what I'm talking about. Come on, how about I treat you to lunch?"

"Sure," she said automatically, following as he led the way out of the cemetery. But the unsettled look on her face remained, a deep unease, which she was careful not to let him see.

**-----**

Meanwhile, at the other entrance to the cemetery Richard got into the back of his company car, for a moment studying his own sombre reflection in the tinted windows.

Jack Harper was waiting for him inside. "So," he said conversationally as Richard pulled the door closed. "How was the visit? First wife still dead?"

Richard glanced at him with a frown. "If I were you, Jack, I'd be less inclined to make wisecracks, and more focused on the tasks at hand."

"Come on, what's the harm?" Jack smiled crookedly. "What's a little wisecracking between friends?"

"We're not friends," Richard said as he signalled the driver and they began pulling away from the curb. "You're my disciple, Jack; and don't you forget it."

"Oh, no," Jack said, the enigmatic smile still hanging from his lips. "I won't. You won't let me."

"And for good reason," Richard replied without looking at the other man. His eyes were trained on the window instead. "We bumped into that charge of yours, just then. The new boyfriend."

Jack's brow lifted. "Jensen?"

Richard nodded. "Just another one you let get away."

"Like I said, Richard," Jack said, a note of impatience creeping into his voice. "Just give it time."

"Not necessary," Richard said, watching the scenery rush by outside. "That one has been marked for death. I could see it in his eyes."

The smile faded from Jack's expression. He studied the older man, his gaze contemplative.

"He has escaped once," Richard said, turning toward him. "But he was never meant to be brought back. Fate will have its way; it won't be long now, even without our intervention."

Jack didn't reply.

**-----**

**Part One**

The next day, Tru awoke to the sight of silvery sunlight pouring through her apartment windows. The weather seemed frosty but clear, and she could hear the muffled sounds of the usual traffic congestion down in the street below. Yawning, she glanced at her desk calendar. It was December 31st.

"Another year," she murmured, stepping into her slippers and padding into the bathroom. Idly, as she usually did in the mornings, she wondered whether today would be happening more than once, and what trouble she'd be getting herself into if that were the case.

It didn't do to dwell on it, however; and a half hour later she was out the door, wrapping a woolly scarf around her neck and smiling at the feeling of the weak winter sun on her face. Heading toward City Morgue, she hit the first name on her speed dial. "Harry?" she said into her phone, "the party still on tonight?"

"You bet," came her brother's voice over the line. "You bringin' your friends?"

"Yeah, I mentioned it to Avery and Tyler yesterday, so they might be tagging along, if that's okay?"

"Avery, your hot blonde friend? _Sure_."

"Don't get fresh with her."

"Tru, it's _me_. Do I ever get fresh with your friends?"

"Do you want me to actually answer that question, or would laughing in your face be a good enough answer?"

"Good point. Don't answer that."

"So how's the moving coming along?" she chuckled as she crossed the street.

"I'm done," he announced. "Dad pimped out the apartment for me, remember? Furniture's all here. I, Harrison Davies, actually have a respectable place. How cool is that, huh?"

"_Very_ cool. It was so generous of dad to give you the place. You must be doing well in your job."

"Yeah," he couldn't quite disguise the pride in his voice. "Hey Tru? I gotta go. I've got a bet on – gotta get some money for some new threads to match the décor, you know what I'm sayin'?"

"You're back at the track again?" she asked, furrowing her brows as she made her way into the morgue building.

"Just a small bet now and then, don't worry, I'm still on the straight and narrow. You know, Tru, it's not like it's hard, checking the horses every day in case you rewind. Easy money, right? Jack does it, you know."

"Yeah, and in case you've forgotten, Jack's _evil_," she rolled her eyes. "Bye, Harrison."

"See you tonight." He hung up with a click.

With a laugh and a small shake of the head, she got off the elevator and strode into the morgue. "What's up, Davis?" she called, spotting her advisor in the check-in room. "Got plans for New Year's Eve?"

"Actually," he glanced up from his seat at the computer, looking a little uneasy. "Carrie and I have plans."

"Ooh," she teased, "an evening of _lurve_. What have you got in mind?"

"Nothing much." A pause, and he added sheepishly, "Wine. And roses. And… uh, Barry White."

"_Davis_!" she laughed. "Didn't know you had it in ya! Plan to _seduce_ the woman?"

"No," he said quickly, blushing. "Uh… maybe."

"Well, I think it's sweet," she grinned. "And you think she'll be into it, too?"

"I hope so. This is kind of… new territory for me, you know."

"_Shocking_," she teased good-naturedly. "Let me know how it goes."

"Yeah," he said, scratching his beard. "If the worst comes to the worst, maybe you'll rewind and give me some pointers."

"Here's hoping," she laughed.

"Anyway, what are you doing here?" he asked. "I gave you the day off."

"I wanted to invite you and Carrie to Harrison's party tonight, but I guess your plans sound better," she winked, walking out again. "Gotta go. I'm meeting Jensen for brunch. Have a good time, and…" she stuck her head back in the door, "Happy New Year."

"You too," he smiled, watching her depart.

**-----**

At The Track bar, Harrison sat in his usual seat, watching the overhead TV monitor with avid attention, his hands clenched. "No," he moaned, "no no no… _yes_, go! Go!"

Leaping to his feet, his eyes were glued to the screen, paying no attention to the other bar patrons who, granted, were mostly doing the same. "No! No…" he shouted at the TV, shaking his fist. "Come on, Lucky Nine! No! _Dammit_!"

He slumped down on the bar stool again, the adrenaline dissipating out of him in a tangible rush. The onscreen display showed that his pick to win, Lucky Nine, had only come in third. The dark horse in the noon race - in this case both figuratively _and _literally - was an insipid-looking black stallion named Four Leaf Clover. Shaking his head, Harrison turned away in disgust.

"No luck?" a drawling voice piped up beside him.

Harrison groaned without looking to see who it was. "Jack, wonderful."

"Nice to see you too, Harrison," Jack said cheerfully, slipping into the seat next to him. "We could be a crack team, you and me. The money'd be rolling in."

"I'm sorry," Harrison looked askance with a disdainful smile. "I don't make a habit of working for Death."

"Harrison, Harrison," Jack shook his head with a mock sigh. "How many times do I have to tell you this? I'm _not_ Death. It's not that simple."

"You help kill people," said Harrison without ceremony, getting up from his seat. "So yeah, it's pretty simple to me. Goodbye, Jack."

"See you around, buddy," Jack said simply, turning back to the bar with a small smile.

**-----**

Avery and Tyler were pulling extra shifts at the clinic this afternoon, looking frazzled at the influx of patients, most of whom with ailments that pointed to drunken New Year celebrations that started just a little too early. Tru and Jensen found them taking a ten-minute break behind the counter. "Hey guys!" said Avery with a smile. "What's up?"

"Just dropping by to see my favourite doctor in the clinic," grinned Tru, reaching over to give the other girl a hug. "Happy New Year, guys."

"Watch the sweet talk," Jensen said, laughing. "I might get jealous."

"You'll never have what Tru and I have," chuckled Avery. "Ours is a _fated_ love."

"If I can't have it," he raised an eyebrow. "Can I at least _watch_ this fated love?"

"Good one," Tyler sniggered, exchanging a high five with his friend.

"_Men_," Avery and Tru said in unison, shaking their heads and rolling their eyes.

"Come on," Jensen laughed. "You walked right into that one."

"You think I'd know better after hanging around these clowns for years," Avery said to Tru. "Evidently, they can't control themselves when a new female comes into the mix."

"Hey, we _heard _that," protested Tyler, making a face. "So what are you guys doing here?"

"Just dropping by to remind you of my brother's New Year party tonight," said Tru, scribbling down the address on a spare piece of paper. "He's just moved in, so it doubles as a house-warming. Drinks, snacks… should be a good night."

"Hey, as long as he serves those little cheese cubes again," Tyler grinned, "I'm totally in."

"We'll be there," Avery promised. "Your brother's nice, Tru."

"_Nice_, huh? That's not a word people use to describe him very often," Tru laughed as she linked arms with Jensen and headed back out. "See you tonight."

**-----**

Davis' apartment was set, as he liked to think of it, for the mood of love. The wine was flowing, candles were strategically placed around his furniture to give the little apartment a special glow that also served to conceal its spartan nature, and a Barry White CD was in the stereo, rearing to go. Carrie Allen was presently lounging on his couch, in a form-fitting lavender dress and elegant heels. She had a glass of cabernet in one hand, and was laughing at one of his jokes, her other hand resting easily on his forearm.

He was, of course, smitten. No one laughed at his jokes, not even Tru. Clearly this one was a keeper. "Uh, so," he said, getting up clumsily and wishing that her hand could have stayed attached to his arm; he was getting fond of it being there. "I ordered some dinner from this place downtown, they do this really good dish…"

"It sounds lovely," she said warmly, rising to her feet. "Let me help you."

"No, no," he said, gesturing for her to sit down. "I've got it. Uh, I've just gotta… go get the, uh, platter. Don't move."

"I won't," she said, laughing as she watched him dart into the kitchen.

**-----**

"Hey!" Harrison greeted Tru and Jensen at the door, ushering them into his apartment. "Come in, come in! Check out my new pad. Pretty good, huh?"

"Happy New Year, Harry," Tru said, kissing her brother on the cheek and handing him a bottle of sparkling wine. "A little something from us."

"Thanks, and Happy New Year to you too," he said with a grin, exchanging a handshake with Jensen.

"I thought you went to buy new clothes today," she said, glancing at his well-worn trousers and striped shirt.

"Long story," he sighed, shaking his head.

"Really?" she looked at him, her voice coloured with equal parts exasperation and amusement. "You lost on the horses?"

"Okay, maybe it isn't that long," he shrugged. "Man, Lucky Nine was a freaking shoo-in for race four, so I went down and put all my money on him; and he came in _third_. Some stupid horse called Four Leaf Clover won; no one's ever heard of it before. And I tell ya, what kind of a name is _Four Leaf Clover _anyway for a _horse_?" With a sly glance in her direction, he added, "Pay special attention, Tru, just in case - "

"Why does Tru have to pay special attention?" asked Jensen, looking bemused.

"It's just Harrison being Harrison," she said quickly, shooting her brother a warning look just as the doorbell rang. As they went to answer it, she hissed under her breath, "Could you be any more obvious? He doesn't know."

"Sorry," he said. "I just thought… you know, a little extra cash wouldn't hurt now and again, something to supplement the earnings, you know what I'm sayin'?"

She swallowed her reply as they opened the door to reveal Avery and Tyler. "Happy New Year!" they exclaimed in unison, with Tyler shooting a streamer at the siblings as an added measure, which exploded with a loud _pop_.

"Come in, guys," grinned Harrison, choking a little on the streamer smoke. "Hi Avery. Tyler, the cheese cubes are over there."

"Good man," Tyler patted him on the shoulder and made straight for the snacks table. The others looked after him, laughing.

**-----**

"And…" Davis said as he emerged back in the lounge, balancing a large, elaborate platter in his arms, "dinner is served."

Carrie was standing by the stereo, a CD case in her hand. "I've gotta say this even if it kills the mood," she laughed teasingly as she turned around. "_Barry White_? What are you planning, an evening of seduction?"

He turned an interesting shade of puce. "Uh…" he mumbled, setting the platter down, "N… no… uh… well, you see, it's like this - "

"Oh, Davis," she said, her eyes widening as she walked toward him, the choice of background music forgotten as she surveyed the platter. "Seafood?"

"Yeah, that place I talked about, they do these great lobster puffs," he said enthusiastically, eager to get away from the topic of Barry White. "And see here? The oysters are _wonderful_. And these crabcakes are pretty good too…"

He trailed off, suddenly realising that her silence wasn't exactly one of surprised pleasure. "Carrie?"

"I feel so bad," she looked at him, her expression filled with apologetic embarrassment. "I should have told you earlier. I don't know why I didn't. It just slipped my mind, I guess. Davis, I'm… I'm allergic to shellfish."

**-----**

Tru wasn't even aware that she had fallen asleep on Harrison's couch until the ringing of her cell phone jerked her awake. Sitting up, she looked around in disorientation, rubbing her eyes. Her brother was standing in the kitchenette, talking animatedly to Avery. On the other side of the room, Tyler was still pondering over the cheese cubes. Shaking her head with a small smile, she answered her phone.

"Tru, it's Davis."

"Hey!" she exclaimed, grinning. "How's the hot date coming along?"

"Actually, it's more or less screeched to a grinding halt," his voice was low and disgruntled.

"What happened?"

"Well, she laughed at my attempt to set the mood with Barry White; and then it turned out she was allergic to the entirety of my special-order shellfish platter; and when I suggested that we go out for something to eat that wouldn't kill her on the spot, I turned around and spilled half a bottle of red wine all over her dress."

"Oh, Davis," she groaned, trying to smother a laugh.

"To make matters worse, I instinctively went for the napkins and dabbed at the stains for about a full minute before I realised I was practically fondling her chest." He sounded crestfallen. "She's in the bathroom now, trying to clean up. How the hell do I get myself into situations like this?"

"It's not that bad," she said consolingly. "You can get it together. Just… be yourself. She likes you, doesn't she? She knows you're accident-prone when you're with her. Just… go with the flow. Don't try to be anything you're not. Look, while she's still in the bathroom, why don't you put away the seafood, call a pizza or something, and choose some other music? The evening doesn't have to be ruined."

"I guess…" he still sounded uncertain. "Oh, I've gotta go, she's coming out."

"Good luck," she smiled. "I'll talk to you tomorrow… _next year_. Happy New Year, Davis."

"You too." He clicked off. She hung up, grinning to herself.

"Tru," Harrison sauntered over, a mimosa in one hand. "Glad to see you likin' my new couch!"

"How long was I asleep?" she yawned, taking the drink from him. "God, I must be more tired than I thought."

"About an hour," he shrugged. "We didn't wanna wake you, you looked kinda beat. Hey, dad showed up."

"_Really_?" she raised an eyebrow and looked around. "That's… unexpected."

"Yeah, finally taking an interest in me after twenty years," he said, though without resentment. "He's out on the balcony."

Through the sliding glass door and white gauze curtains, she could see Richard and Jensen engaged in conversation outside, leaning against the balcony railing, their breaths misting in the cold night air. "Your new boyfriend went to talk to him out of his own free will," Harrison said with a grin. "Pretty bold, I say. He must really like you."

"We're getting there," she grinned back, ruffling his hair playfully. "So what's up with you and Avery, huh?"

Discreetly, he glanced over his shoulder at the other girl, who had joined Tyler with the cheese cube tasting. "She's cool," he said with a smile. "I think - "

But at that moment a strange metallic creaking filled the room like an unearthly wail. They looked around, confused; Tru barely had time to register that the sound came from the balcony before she saw the forms of Richard and Jensen waver beyond the curtains, the railing breaking off cleanly under their combined weight. For a second they seemed to be suspended in midair, both of them caught against the backdrop of night in postures of almost comical imbalance. As she cried out they fell.

**-----**

Jack sat alone in the corner of a busy bar, observing the revellers with a couple of empty shot glasses beside him. His lips, as usual, were curved up in a slight, sardonic smile, though his eyes remained pensive.

He watched with disinterest as the crowd, looking up at the TV monitor with a shot of the ball over Times Square, began chanting in sync with the onscreen display. "Ten! Nine! Eight…!"

"Happy New Year, Jack," he said to himself, downing another shot.

**-----**

Tru could hardly remember how she reached them so fast. She vaguely recalled yelling at Harrison to call an ambulance, and perhaps the jolting sensation of her feet striking the apartment stairs as she flew down two steps at a time. The night air had hit her like a sheet of ice water as she burst gasping from the apartment building to the courtyard outside, running toward the two figures sprawled on the ground. "Dad!" she shouted, her voice tinny and strained to her own ears. "Jensen!"

Neither of them stirred. As she came closer she fought a stifled gasp: they had both fallen on the broken railing. She could see a piece of jagged metal sticking up through Jenson's right calf from when he landed. A dark pool was spreading rapidly underneath them, both men with their faces down to the ground, both men with their flung-out limbs set in impossible angles. "Jensen?" she cried, diving for the nearer body. "Oh my god…"

He didn't move. A cold cavernous fear spreading inside her chest, she crawled on her hands and knees to the other body. "Dad? Answer me! Dad!"

His head turned, then. His blank grey eyes stared out at her through a bloodied face, crushed almost to the point of non-recognition.

"_Help me_."

The last thing she realised, before the familiar sensation of crackling warmth flowed through her body and her surroundings melted away, was that it was her father, and not Jensen, who did the asking.

**-----**

**Author's Note:** Just thought I'd pop this in here since the question was asked and I thought it was amusing. A mimosa is a plant, but it is also a very nice cocktail made from one part orange juice and one part champagne. ;)


	2. Part Two

**Part Two**

The morning of New Year's Eve was bright and clear, the winter sun lending light, if not heat, to the busy New York streets.

"Sorry to interrupt," Jack said briskly as he strode into Richard's office. "We have to talk."

"Do you ever knock?" the other man asked irritably, glancing up from his desk.

Jack merely shot him a dark look. The door slammed behind him.

**-----**

"Harrison?" Tru demanded into her phone as she walked quickly toward City Morgue. "It's Day Two."

"New Year's Eve?" his voice came over the line. "Geez. You'd think God, or whatever, would give you a break."

"Doesn't work that way," she said curtly. "They didn't give me Christmas Eve off, either. Get this: _dad_ asked for my help last night."

"Oh my god - "

"I _know_. Listen, I need you to do something very important for me."

"Sure, anything."

"I need you to fix your balcony railing. That thing is a death trap…"

**-----**

There was a long pause after Jack finished relating the events of last night. Richard leaned back on his chair, looking deep in thought.

"So," he finally said. "Me… and this Jensen kid. You sure about that? You weren't there."

"Richard," Jack said with a degree of irritation. "You've done this job before. You know how it goes. _Of course _I'm sure. You died. More importantly, _you_ asked for help from Tru."

"Yes, I'm aware of that," Richard said slowly, his gaze moving past Jack to the opposite wall.

"So I assume you're also aware of the interesting dilemma we've got going on?" Jack's voice was charged with agitation, a rare occurrence in itself.

"Yes."

Jack waited. When it became clear that Richard wasn't going to speak, he spread his hands. "Well?"

Richard blinked like he was snapping out of a dream. He turned his eyes back on Jack, opened his mouth as though he wanted to say something, and then closed it again.

"Am I supposed to do all that I can to keep _you_ dead?" demanded Jack, crossing his arms over his chest. "Because I have to say, Richard, if that's the case here, the fates certainly have a twisted sense of humour."

"We do what we must," said Richard, sounding as though he were echoing some inaudible message whispered into his ear.

"What does that _mean_, Richard?" Jack exclaimed. "You are supposed to guide me through this kind of stuff!"

"If you haven't noticed already," Richard said. "It would be a gross conflict of interest if I get involved. You implied you don't want to be my disciple anymore, Jack; here's your chance. Your first big independent assignment."

"You've got to be joking," Jack said, staring.

Richard shrugged elegantly, his gaze shifting from the other man's face once more.

**-----**

"Davis, I need your help," Tru demanded as she opened the door to the check-in room.

He was on the phone, tossing her a smile over his shoulder as he continued talking. "Yeah… I would like to place an order please? Um, two servings of crab cakes, one large serving of the lobster puffs - "

"Uh, Davis," she said urgently.

"One second, Tru," he said, clamping a hand over the receiver. "I just need to - "

"Carrie's allergic to shellfish."

He stared at her for a moment, looking disgruntled. She spread her hands with a small smile.

"Hey," he said into the phone, rolling his eyes toward the ceiling. "I'll have to, uh, call you back."

"And just another thing," she said mischievously as he hung up. "Barry White? Not such a hot idea."

"I guess the date was a bust," he said sullenly. "Did she laugh in my face?"

"No," she sat down in the chair opposite the desk. "Actually, it sounded like she was really nice about it. Even after you spilled wine all over her and started groping her chest."

He looked so taken aback that she burst out laughing. "Not on _purpose_, Davis. Anyway, you know how that turns out, so you _can_ plan the perfect date tonight. Call it a silver lining."

"And what's the cloud this time?" he sat back in his chair. "Who died?"

"My dad," she said, and after a pause added, "and Jensen. We were at Harrison's new place and the balcony railing broke."

"They both died at the same time?"

She nodded. He watched her, his expression simultaneously inquisitive and solemn, "Did they _both_ ask for help?"

There was a pause. "I think you know the answer," she said quietly, biting her lip.

"Jensen didn't ask, again," he said, his voice equally soft.

"He might have," she said defensively. "If I had more time."

"Tru," he sighed, sounding a little exasperated. "He didn't ask last time, either."

"So what am I supposed to do?" she demanded. "Not save him? That's not an option, Davis."

"I'm just saying that, maybe," he said carefully, "whatever gave you your power has a _reason_ why it didn't make Jensen ask for your help."

"God, you're starting to sound like Jack," she replied crossly.

"Believe it or not, I'm aware of that," he said, shaking his head. "It's just…"

"It's just _what_, Davis?"

He shrugged, looking ill at ease. She crossed her arms and stared at him expectantly. He shrugged again, clearing his throat. "Look," he said, "maybe… as much as it pains me to say it, maybe Jack is right on this one. Maybe you're not supposed to meddle with fate when they don't ask. That's all I'm saying."

"Well, I don't buy that," she set her jaw.

"It's not supposed to work this way," he said, his voice low. "You're abusing your power."

"You know what?" she exclaimed. "I really don't give a damn how things are _supposed_ to work right now! No one gave me an instruction manual! If you're not gonna help me, Davis, then you'd better get out of my way."

"I'm on your side, Tru," he said softly, looking taken aback at her sudden outburst.

"I gotta go," she said coldly as she stood up. "I'm meeting Jensen for brunch and I'm keeping an eye on him today. Call me if anything comes up, okay?"

"Do you want me to check on your dad?" he asked, leaning forward as she headed for the door.

"I'll get Harrison to do it," she said curtly, still stung by his comments. "Good luck with your date tonight."

"Tru," he said, his tone coloured by exasperation, but she had already walked out, leaving the glass door to swing shut behind her.

**-----**

"You're right," said the handyman who'd come out to inspect Harrison's balcony. "See the bars down here on the railing? All rusted away. A decent push would make the whole thing give. It's an accident waiting to happen."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Harrison said. "But you can fix it, yeah?"

The handyman nodded. "It's gonna cost ya, though. First I have to take this piece of crap out, and then I suppose you'll want the same type railing put back in?"

"I guess," said Harrison, a little dubiously. "Uh… so how much is this gonna cost?"

The handyman nudged the railing with his toe. "Can't say for sure yet. But… ball park figure, I'd say about between seven hundred and a thousand."

"Huh," Harrison said.

**-----**

"No problem," said Tru into her phone as she walked toward the caf on campus. "You told me about the track results yesterday. Apparently Lucky Nine's a shoo-in for race four, but bet on Four Leaf Clover, okay? It's a long shot but it wins. You got that? Get the money, and get the railing fixed. That's all I ask."

She paused for a moment, listening with a smile. "All right," she said. "Call me if anything comes up. Bye."

"Tru! Over here!"

Turning, she saw Jensen waving from his seat in the café. "Hey," she said as she strode over. "How are you?"

"Decent," he laughed, pulling a chair out for her. "And you?"

"Can't complain," she said as she leaned in for a quick kiss. "Any plans today?"

"There's no class, no work, and there's you," he grinned. "That's pretty much all I ask."

"Easy to please," she smiled, taking his hand. "I like that in a man."

"We'll have to drop by the clinic, though," he said. "Avery and Tyler - "

"Are pulling extra shifts, I know," she finished for him. Upon catching his puzzled look she added quickly, "Avery told me. We can swing by to invite them to Harrison's party."

"Cool," he said, getting out his chair. "Let's order. I'm starv – _ow_!"

"Are you okay?" she asked, jumping to her feet.

"Yeah, fine," he said quizzically, pressing a hand to his right calf. "Ow. Um… my leg just seized up for a second."

"Let me see," she said, pushing him back into his seat.

"It's no big deal, Tru," he said, laughing in embarrassment as she pressed a hand to the spot, trying to feel for muscle tension. "Seriously. I dunno what happened. It just hurt for a second."

"Has it ever happened before?" she asked anxiously.

He shook his head. "You know what's weird though? It _felt_ like an old injury. My mind automatically went 'oh, not _again_', even though this never happened before. Weird, huh? I've been getting a lot of déjà-vu moments lately." He chuckled softly. "Maybe it's a glitch in the Matrix."

Her hand was still pressed to his leg when she recalled, with a jolt, the image of him the night before, sprawled on the dark ground. The pool of blood, the faint light splintering from the stars above, the steel rod sticking out of his right calf.

She jerked her hand away from the spot. "Oh," she said weakly.

"Are you okay?" he looked at her, frowning.

"Yeah," she swallowed, forcing a smile. "I'm fine."

**-----**

"Morning," said Carrie at the door to Davis' office. "Hard at work, as usual?"

"Oh, you know," he turned from the computer with a self-conscious grin. "I like to, uh, work…"

She laughed at his sheepish expression after he'd made the remark. "Looking forward to our date tonight?"

"Definitely," he beamed up at her. A pause, and he asked tentatively, "And you?"

She nodded. "Great," he said, looking pleased. "Hey," he said, "you're allergic to shellfish, aren't you?"

"That's right," she smiled in surprise. "How did you know?"

"Tru told me," he scratched his beard. "It's one of her rewind days. Apparently last night I served lobster puffs on our date and… it didn't go so well."

"She rewound?" she seemed interested in the prospect. "Do you know who died?"

"Her father, actually," he replied, fidgeting. "She's got it under control. Hey… I guess I'm not supposed to talk… I mean, you won't tell her that you know, right?"

"Of course not," she looked earnestly at him. "I wouldn't do that."

"Good," he looked relieved. "Not that… uh, not that I thought you would, but… I haven't had a chance to tell her that you know, so - "

"It's fine, Davis," she held up a hand, grinning. "Listen, I gotta go up to my office and catch up on some paperwork. I'll see you later, okay?"

"Sure. Bye. I mean, I'll see you later, so not, like, _goodbye_; but... um, I'll..."

"See you later, Davis." As she walked away he could hear her good-natured laughter echoing down the hall.

**-----**

"Hey guys!" Avery called with a smile as Tru and Jensen walked in the door. "What's up?"

"Just dropping by to see my favourite doctor in the clinic," Tru grinned, giving the other girl a hug. "Happy New Year, guys."

"Watch the sweet talk," Jensen chuckled. "I might get jealous."

"You will never have what Tru and I have," Avery said with a quirk of the brow. "Ours is a _fated_ love."

"If I can't have it," he glanced at Tyler. "Can I at least _watch_ this fated love?"

"_Men_," Avery rolled her eyes as Jensen and Tyler high-fived each other. Tru only smiled weakly.

"Come on," Jensen laughed. "You walked right into that one… _ow_!"

"What's wrong?" demanded Avery, rushing out from behind the counter.

"It just did it again," he said, clutching his right calf. "Okay… this is starting to get weird…"

"What did what again?" asked Avery as she bent down to examine his leg. "Did you pull a muscle?"

"More a stabbing sort of pain, actually," he said, glancing at the others sheepishly. "It's fine, it's gone now."

"Since you're here," she said anxiously, "why don't you get checked up? I'm on a break, we can use one of the spare exam rooms."

"No, seriously," he protested, "I'm fine."

"Tru," Avery glanced at the other girl, "what do you think?"

"Uh, yeah," said Tru, feeling an irrational cold dread bubbling up in her chest. "She's right, Jensen; you should get it checked out. It'll only take a minute."

"Two women fawning over you, man," deadpanned Tyler. "I wouldn't waste the opportunity if I were you."

"All right, all right," Jensen acquiesced, laughing. "But it's nothing, I swear..."

**-----**

When Carrie went up to her office, she gasped and nearly dropped her cup of coffee when she found Jack reclining idly on her patient couch. "What are you doing here?" she demanded, closing the door behind her. "Shouldn't you be out trying to put Richard Davies' death on track or something?"

"I see Davis told you about the rewind," he said, raising an eyebrow.

"And thanks for keeping me in the loop, by the way," she replied a little crossly as she sat down at her desk. "Do you need help?"

"Only with a moral dilemma."

"Oh, _right_," she said, swinging around to meet his eyes. "_Richard_, of course, is the guy designated to help you with your job. And if you're gonna put _his_ death on track… One, it's not too savoury a thought for you; and two, it's entirely possible that he's not gonna like that prospect very much, either. Did you tell him he died yesterday? I wouldn't have said anything if I were you."

"You're good, Carrie." His voice carried an element of surprised admiration.

She looked at him. "Don't ever underestimate my intelligence, Jack."

He inclined his head with a small smile. "Anyway, it's too late for that. I kinda panicked when I woke up, and I told him everything."

"And?"

"Nothing."

"Nothing?"

"He said nothing. He told me to figure this out on my own."

"Quite the stoic, isn't he?"

"Or," he glanced at her, "quite the poker face."

"You think he'll practice what he preaches?"

"Willingly go to his death when he knows about it? Only saints do that, Carrie; and if there's one thing I know, Richard Davies is no saint."

"Good point. So… what now?"

He didn't answer, turning instead to look out the window. The early afternoon sunlight had turned from silver to pale gold, bringing a hint of green to his eyes.

"I don't know," he finally admitted, not looking in her direction. "I really don't know."

**-----**

"Well, everything seems fine," said Avery. "No muscle strain, no cuts and bruises." Watching Jensen roll his pants leg down, she furrowed her brows. "You said it was like a stabbing sort of pain?"

"Yeah, like something's been rammed through it," he said. "But just for a second. I know it sounds weird."

"What do you think, Tru?" Avery glanced at the brunette, who stood to one side of the examination bed, her brows furrowed and evidently deep in thought.

Tru looked up, and as their eyes met, Avery thought she saw a flicker of something strange in the other girl's gaze. For an instant it almost seemed like fear, or foreboding…

"I have no idea," Tru said, turning toward Jensen with a concerned expression.

Avery shook her head lightly; she must have been seeing things. "Pick up a prescription of painkillers if you want," she said. "But my guess is that it's just some involuntary muscle spasm."

"I told you," he spread his hands.

She punched him lightly on the shoulder. "Give it a few more days and…"

"Come back if the pain persists, yada yada," he finished for her with a grin. "I know the drill. Thanks."

"Take care of yourself," she said. "You'll look after him, won't you, Tru?"

"Of course," Tru said, planting a kiss on Jensen's forehead. He patted her on the arm with a carefree smile and got up to go.

But Avery saw the look on Tru's face, the overwhelming melancholy, and could not help wondering what the other girl knew that Jensen did not.

**-----**

"Congratulations," said the girl at the ticketing desk as she counted out Harrison's winnings. "Four Leaf Clover, huh? Lucky hunch."

"You bet," he grinned as he took his prize money in cash. "Secure balcony," he said as he strolled off, planting a kiss on the wad of notes as he went. "Here we come…"

**-----**

Jack was waiting for Tru when she and Jensen came out of the clinic. "Hey!" he exclaimed, feigning surprise. "Fancy seeing you two here!"

"What are you doing here?" she demanded, casting a quick glance at Jensen, who looked a little disgruntled at the sight of the other man. "Hey Jack," he said unenthusiastically.

"I need to talk to you, Tru," Jack said sweetly. "It's kinda urgent."

"I'll be over there," Jensen said, a hint of resignation to his voice as he pointed to a bench on the sidewalk.

"I'll just be one second," she promised him as she followed Jack to the side of the building. "What are you doing?" she hissed, folding her arms. "How did you know I was here?"

"Nice to see you again, too," he looked amused.

She merely glowered. Shaking his head, he shrugged. "I figured you'd be watching Jensen's ass all day. Figuratively and, well," he glanced at the other man, who had sat down on the bench, looking bored, "literally."

She chose to ignore the comment. "Still doesn't explain why you're here. Shouldn't you be out ruining my plans?"

"Which is all very well if you _had_ any plans." He had a habit of tilting his head back slightly and looking at her through half-lowered lids. It gave him an air of knowing scrutiny. "But as far as I can tell, Tru, you're just sitting back on this one. What, boyfriend and father not important enough for you to make an effort?"

"Is that all you came here to do?" she demanded. "To mock the fact that I'm not making some big, intricate plan? Jack, that's pathetic, even for you."

"Oh," he shrugged again, his expression languid. "That's not _all_ I plan to do."

She waited, but he merely smiled at her in the manner that she had grown accustomed to: half knowing, half indulgent, as though she were nothing but a little kid with countless antics up her sleeve. "_What?_" she demanded crossly. "It was a freak accident; the balcony's been fixed, things won't go the same way this time."

He looked at her, his eyes glittering strangely in the golden afternoon light. "How can you be sure?"

She stared back into that inscrutable gaze, narrowing her eyes. He always knew how to burrow under her skin, she'll give him that; he knew exactly how to needle her along until she felt ready to scream. In some ways, he seemed to know more about her calling than she ever did herself, and at that, she could feel a surge of resentment welling up within. "What do you mean?" she asked, and as she spoke those words she felt a new flood of anger, at him and also at herself, for having to expose this uncertainty.

He smiled. There was a trace of triumph to it. "You're fighting a losing battle, Tru. At least where Jensen's involved. You _know_ he wasn't supposed to be brought back. Death has him marked; it's not gonna give him up that easily."

"You're wrong," she said, her mind reeling.

"Am I? Do you really believe that railing breaking was a 'freak accident', as you called it? These things happen for a _reason_."

"What are you implying?"

"I'm not _implying_ anything. I'm saying very plainly that the railing broke last night because it was Jensen's time to die. That's why he didn't ask you to save him. Your calling, as much as you would like to believe otherwise, does _not_ extend to those who don't ask."

"Yeah, well," she said, forcing out a victorious smile, even though she felt nothing like it on the inside. "Someone else asked, didn't they? And Jensen is still alive, so much the better."

"For now," he said. His voice had grown low and chilling.

She stared at him, fighting an urge to bite down on her lip.

"How many times will you have to save him before you understand, Tru?" he asked quietly, leaning in, his eyes burning into hers like twin points of blue-green flame. "He's walking in this world but he doesn't belong in it. He belongs on the other side. He's supposed to be dead, and more than once, too. Even if _he_ doesn't comprehend it, his body knows the way things are supposed to be, _and it remembers_."

She drew in a sharp breath, and he pulled back, a hint of satisfaction emerging in his gaze. "_That's _why I knew I could find you here," he said, and the familiar smile is back again, the one that seemed to speak simultaneously of disdain and calm irony. "His body is recalling the injuries that had been done to it, even the ones that aren't supposed to be there. Am I right?"

"That's not true," she said, hardly aware of the fact that she was shaking. "You're really pissing me off, Jack. You better get out of my sight."

"I'm just saying this can't last," he said, and all of a sudden his eyes lost their usual sardonic sparkle, as though a light behind them had gone out. "His own fate will carry him to the inevitable conclusion. You violated a rule in bringing him back the first time, Tru. He'll have to pay for it sooner or later."

"And you?" she asked quietly. "When are you going to pay for killing Luc? If we both violated rules, it was you who did it first."

For a moment he didn't speak. Their gazes were held, though, each calculating, each with its own set of convictions and doubts. A freezing wind travelled across the grounds and stirred her hair; the sunlight seemed to grow colder and more brilliant, becoming almost metallic in texture.

It was him who broke the eye contact. "I guess we all have our own crosses to bear," he said, not looking back as he turned and walked away.

She took a few moments to compose her thoughts, staring at his retreating figure, before she returned to Jensen. When she did, she found him contemplating the sky with a furrow in his brow. "I never really noticed how blue it is," he said as she sat down beside him. "Just another thing that you notice, I guess, when you take the time to. It's amazing to think how alone we are in the universe, and how far it stretches out. It really makes you feel insignificant, don't you think?"

"Yeah, I guess," she answered softly.

"What did Jack want?"

She shrugged. "Just… stuff."

He glanced at her. "Why do I get the feeling that you aren't telling me the whole story about you and him?"

"What?" she laughed weakly. "Oh… you know. We used to work together. That's about it."

"And you're friends?"

"I wouldn't really call him a _friend_… what's this about, Jensen? Why are you so interested in Jack all of a sudden?"

He shrugged and looked up again. She waited, but no answer came.

**-----**

"And…" Davis said as he walked back into the lounge, holding a large serving platter. "Dinner is served."

Carrie was standing by the stereo, a CD case in her hand. "Sarah McLachlan?" she asked, a hint of teasing to her voice. "Never figured you for the type, Davis."

"Do you like her?" he asked anxiously, setting the platter on the table. "It was Tru's suggestion. I'm not so good with the selection of music and the… stuff."

"I love it," she said softly, smiling at him as she walked forward and surveyed the platter. "Oh, _wow_. This looks great!"

"It's Moroccan. Decided to forgo the shellfish, obviously."

"Looks fabulous," she said. "What's that one?"

"I think... some sort of potato... originally?" he said, poking the dish cautiously.

She grinned. "You going to try it?"

"I'm always up for culinary challenges," he chuckled, taking a bite of the dish before he made a face.

"Not good?" she asked, laughing as he hastily took a large gulp of water.

"We'll probably stay away from that one," he muttered. But he couldn't help smiling as their eyes met.

**-----**

Jack paused in front of Richard's office door before he went in, glancing out the window at the night sky. Through the door that stood ajar, he could hear Richard's voice as the older man talked on the phone. "Harrison?" he was saying. "I'm sorry but I'm not going to be able to make it to your party… yes, I'm terribly sorry about that. But a new case has just come up and…"

He fell silent for a few moments, and Jack, outside the door, couldn't help a small, wry smile.

"Yes, I'm aware of that, but there's just too much paperwork to get through," Richard said. "Have fun without me, okay? I'll see you back at work after the New Year break… all right, son. Goodbye."

Jack heard the click of the phone as Richard hung up. "Not going to risk your life on Harrison having fixed that balcony, then?" he asked, striding into the room.

Richard looked up. "Evidently not."

Jack nodded. "I've been thinking."

"Oh yeah?" Richard leaned back on his chair. "What about?"

"About the fact that you left me cold on this mission," Jack replied. "About the fact that, despite knowing everything I've told you, you seem to have left the choice in my hands. That's not like you, Richard."

"Perhaps people can surprise you," said the other man. His eyes seemed almost black by the light of the single lamp in the corner of the room.

"Even so," Jack said. "It's not your style, and we both know it."

Richard inclined his head slightly, looking as though he wasn't going to challenge the point. "So the question is," he said. "What are you going to do now, Jack?"

"You taught me everything I know," Jack said, a little sadly.

"Jack," Richard said, looking away. "I have a family. I have a _wife_. This is going to be…" he sighed. "I don't know what will happen to Jordan and the kids. I can't…"

Jack stared at him. "I know."

"I can't let you do this," said Richard, still not looking at him.

Jack swallowed. "It's my job, Richard."

"I know," Richard said, and lifted his arm.

He was holding a pistol, and he pointed it straight at Jack's head.

**-----**

"Hey!" Harrison said as he opened the door, letting Tru and Jensen through. "Come in, come in! Check out my new pad. Pretty good, huh?" In an undertone he added to Tru, "Balcony's all fixed, as per requested."

"Thanks, Harry," she said with relief, kissing him on the cheek. "I meant to bring wine, but forgot in all the excitement. Forgive me?"

"Believe me," he said, "family letting me down is kinda a recurring theme today. Dad isn't coming."

"That's weird," she furrowed her brows. But before she could say anything else the doorbell rang again, and he hurried off to greet Avery and Tyler, the latter setting off a streamer with a loud pop. Waving to her friends with a forced smile, she grabbed Harrison by the arm the first chance she got and dragged him to one side. "This doesn't make sense," she hissed. "He _should_ be here. He was here yesterday."

"So?"

"So, he should be here today! I was counting on it! Oh my god, what if Jack got to him first?" she pressed a hand over her mouth as though she were going to be sick. "_God_… I was so worried about saving Jensen that I just _assumed_ dad would be okay once the balcony's fixed…"

"Tru, calm down. He just called and said he had paperwork, he's still in the office; he didn't mention anything about Jack."

"But Jack could be on his way there right now!" she exclaimed, striding toward the door. "I've got to get to dad before he does…"

Jensen, Avery and Tyler, who were standing around the snack table, looked up at the sound of her anxious voice. "What's wrong, Tru?" asked Avery.

"I… I gotta go," Tru said quickly, grabbing her coat. "You guys stay here, okay? Harrison, keep an eye on Jen… _everyone_." She looked significantly at him. "I'll be back soon."

Her cell phone rang, however, before she'd even made it out the door. "Yeah?" she demanded into it as she flew down the stairs, hoping desperately that it would not be Jordan or some equally distraught voice, telling her that she was too late, and that her father had died as a result of her oversight.

"T.. Tru? Is that you?"

The voice was unfamiliar, and it took her several moments to place it. When she did, however, she furrowed her brows. "_Carrie_?"

"Yeah, it's… it's me." The voice on the other end sounded as though it was bordering on hysterical. "God, Tru, I… I didn't know who else to call… the ambulance is on its way but… but - "

"Whoa, hold on, back up," Tru demanded, stopping dead in the stairwell. "What's going on?"

"It's Davis," Carrie sobbed, "he just fainted for no reason and I couldn't wake him… he's not breathing…"

**-----**

"You gonna shoot me with that thing, Richard?" asked Jack, staring at the gun with a curious expression.

"I wish it could be otherwise," said Richard, keeping his aim as he got out from behind the desk. "But if it came down to killing you or be killed, then I guess it doesn't take a genius to figure out which one I'd rather have happen."

"After everything you told me," said Jack, his voice very quiet. "After everything you said about restoring the balance to fate, after - "

"I _know_ what I said, Jack," Richard interrupted, shadows flitting across his face. "But I guess the view is different from where I currently stand."

Jack looked at him, and said nothing.

"I'm a defence attorney, as you well know," said Richard, careful not to let his aim falter. "And like all good defence attorneys I'm no stranger to bargaining. If you would give me your word, Jack, then it doesn't need to end this way."

"You want me to overlook the rules today?" Jack asked, his eyes clouding over.

"It'll be no different to a day when you lose out to my daughter," Richard said evenly. "What's one more in the grand scheme of things?"

"The rules aren't there for you to bend to suit yourself, Richard; you should know that better than anyone."

"Believe me, I see the irony," Richard said, his tone unmoved. "Just give me your word, Jack. What is it to you? It's just a job, after all. Isn't it what you said?"

Jack was silent for a moment, looking out at the night outside, the glittering skyline of New York city spreading out far and wide beneath their feet. In the faint lamplight his eyes looked very blue.

"You know what I decided before I walked in that door, Richard?"

"Don't drag this out, Jack."

"I decided," Jack continued, ignoring the other man, "I decided that if you were going to stay true to all the things you taught me, then… I'd just turn and walk away. I'll reap whatever consequences that come for it. I can handle that responsibility. The time with Megan, the girl who asked for my help… it… it nearly killed me. I wasn't about to do that again."

"Sorry to disappoint you," Richard said quietly. "But you should have known that self-preservation comes first and foremost. And that's what surprises me. Why are you still hesitating? All I need is for you to give a nod, and things can go back to as they were."

"No," Jack said, his voice soft as he turned and looked into Richard's eyes. "Things can't go back to the way they were, Richard. Not after this."

"I _am_ sorry, you know," said Richard, his voice shaded with vague regret. "I wish it didn't have be this way."

"Me too," said Jack. But before he could say anything else, he was suddenly gripped with a familiar cold feeling running down his body, like his nerves were folding in on themselves, as though some part of him were dying. Time seemed to slow as the scene in front of him faded into monochrome: Richard, the office, the gun. His eyes widened as he felt the effervescent jerk behind his stomach, and images began to race across his retinas…

"_Oh wow, this looks great!" said Carrie, looking down at a platter full of sumptuous, exotic food. There was a kiss, a smile, the sound of a woman singing a lilting melody in the background. Then they were moving toward the bedroom, Carrie's lips were on his, she was smiling at him, shyly, and then he was on the floor and there was a blinding pain spreading from his stomach and then…_

"_Davis_," Jack exclaimed as he sat up straight in his bed. He looked toward the window, the morning sunlight pouring through like sheets of liquid crystal, and then at the calendar on the bedside table.

December 31st.

_Again._


	3. Part Three

**Part Three**

"I died? Of what? Hold on, I was in the _bedroom_? With _Carrie_? Oh god, it wasn't a heart attack during… _you know_, was it? God, how humiliating, I bet that was exactly…"

"_Davis_," interrupted Tru, though she couldn't help a smile at his flustered state. "Relax, it wasn't that."

"Thank _god_," he sighed, sinking into his chair. "What was it?"

"Food poisoning," she answered promptly. "I had a chance to look you over before you asked. You were eating these weird Moroccan potato things…"

"Solanine, of course," he nodded. "Highly toxic even in small doses when inadequately prepared. I should sue the restaurant. Hold on… but I'm not getting Moroccan tonight. I was planning to order these lobster puffs…"

"Oh," she groaned, "here's where it gets complicated…"

**-----**

Out in the hallway, Jack leaned against the wall and carefully eavesdropped on Davis and Tru's conversation, a pensive expression on his face.

Given the preceding night's events, he had no intention of going to tell Richard what had transpired over the past two days. The question remained, however, that there were now three deaths that he was supposed to keep track of, and as far as he could tell, all three were highly circumstantial, and lacking in a general coherent pattern.

"Well, obviously I'm supposed to do _something_," Tru was saying, her voice strung with agitation, "and I haven't been able to get it right. It's like that time with Michael Mancuso and his daughter, I just have to figure out what it is that I'm supposed to _do_…"

"But what about the time you got arrested? Detective Lopez asked for your help on the rewind, causing you to relive the day a third time."

"It's different, Davis. When Detective Lopez asked, I knew _exactly_ what I had to do to save both of them. The two deaths were interlinked. But this time there's nothing linking _your _death with the first ones. I still think it's more like the time when I had to figure out what exactly it was that fate wanted…"

Jack, listening intently, nodded to himself.

"You say the first rewind started when your father and Jensen died?" Davis' voice was grave and contemplative.

"Yeah, what… hold on. You better not be thinking what I - "

"Maybe you're supposed to let Jensen die."

"Damn it, Davis! We had this conversation before! I - "

"Well, maybe _you _have, but _I_ haven't," Davis sounded disgruntled. Jack, out in the hallway, couldn't help a wry smile.

"I'm sorry, Davis," Tru's tone was contrite. "It's just that technically I haven't slept, like, in 40 hours. And I still have no idea what's going on."

"I wish you hadn't said that," said Jack under his breath, stifling a yawn. He wouldn't have minded some sleep himself.

"Who's there?" demanded Tru, sticking her head out the door. "Just what do you think you're doing?" she demanded, her eyes narrowing dangerously.

"Good morning, and good hearing, too." He smiled tiredly. "I've come to kill Davis. And you?"

She stared at him, for a moment looking so startled that he had to laugh. "Tru, that was a _joke_. Getting a little too uptight there, don't you think?"

"And just when I thought you couldn't sink any lower in your bad taste," she said as Davis joined her in the doorway, looking suspicious. "What are you doing here, Jack?"

"Same as you," he said. "Trying to figure out what the hell is going on. Let's not play games, okay? I'm tired, you're tired, no one has any idea what we're supposed to be doing, and both of us just want it to be over, one way or another. That sound about right to you?"

"I guess it makes sense," she said reluctantly.

He nodded. "At least we're making progress. God, I need some coffee. Walk and talk with me, Tru."

She cast another dubious look at him and stepped out into the hall, glancing back at Davis. "Be careful," he said, eyeing Jack mistrustfully.

"Don't worry, doc," Jack smiled as he turned and walked toward the elevators. "I'll return her in one piece."

With another glance at Davis, Tru reluctantly followed.

**-----**

"Let's compile our facts," Jack said as he and Tru walked away from the hot drinks vendor, each holding a paper cup of strong black coffee. "The first day, your father and Jensen die from a 'freak accident', as you like to call it, and Richard asks for your help. The second day they are fine, but Davis dies independently of that, and he asks."

"It's not…" she paused, casting another sceptical glance at him before she sighed. "It's not totally independent. If I didn't tell him his date went badly the day before, he wouldn't have gotten food poisoning."

He nodded slowly. "But on the face of it, things look pretty arbitrary."

"And that's what worries me. Am I just supposed to get Harry to fix the balcony and make sure Davis doesn't eat a bad potato? It can't be that simple."

He glanced at her with a peculiar smile. "God forbid your job be easy for once."

"That's not what I meant," she narrowed her eyes again, "I just think this can't be it, you know? Like you said yesterday, I'm not making some big, intricate plan. I can't see the connections well enough to _make_ plans."

"I heard you talking about Michael someone earlier…"

"Michael Mancuso, yeah. It was before you came. It was the _longest_ day – I had four rewinds."

He whistled through his teeth. "And I thought _this_ was bad. What happened?"

"It turned out he was supposed to die - "

"_Aha!"_

" – so his daughter could live," she finished, shooting him a dirty look. "She needed a heart transplant. He sacrificed himself to save her."

"It took you four rewinds to figure that out?"

She couldn't help another dirty look. He merely smiled.

"Believe me," she said. "The events were pretty complicated. But my point is that… well, there _was_ a point to everything. All the stuff that happened, they happened for a reason somewhere down the line."

"So… Davis dying, and Jensen and your dad before that. What does that suggest to you?"

"Other than the fact that fate must really hate my family and friends? Not a hell of a lot. And you?"

He shrugged, but there was a troubled expression in his eyes as he glanced up at the sky. "Tru," he said slowly. "Maybe I should tell you…"

She turned to him expectantly. "Yeah?"

He didn't speak for a long time. She stared at him, the pensive furrow of the brows, the eyes turned blue and opaque by the silvery sunlight. The look on his face somehow made her recall the night, not so long ago, out on the viewing platform of Edison tower, when he'd let go of Megan's hand and she had snarled, too late to do anything else, _I wish it were you_. She hadn't forgotten what he said in reply.

As she looked at him she realised, with a pang, that he was wearing the exact same expression as he did then. "Jack?" she asked tentatively, her voice coming out a lot gentler than she'd thought possible.

He lowered his eyes and tossed his coffee cup, still full to the brim, into a nearby trash can. "It's nothing," he said, striding on ahead without another look in her direction.

**-----**

"Two rewinds," Davis muttered to himself, typing the facts up on his computer, "Three separate victims. Day One: Richard Davies and Jensen. Day Two…"

"Writing a crime novel?"

He turned with a start, shutting off his monitor on reflex. "Oh, Carrie," he said, sighing as he turned the screen back on. "It's just you."

"Nice to see you too, Davis," she laughed as she walked into the office.

"I didn't mean…" he coloured. "I mean, I just meant…"

"It's okay," she chuckled, placing a hand on his shoulder. "I was just teasing."

"I'm helping Tru work out her… uh, rewind day," he said quickly.

"Oh," she said, looking interested. "Anything I can help with?"

"Actually, while you're here," he said. "You can tell me what you want for dinner tonight. Believe it or not, it's actually relevant. Although I guess there's a self-serving element to that, too…"

"I really don't mind," she shrugged. "I eat pretty much anything. Surprise me. Oh, except don't get - "

"Shellfish," he finished for her. "Yeah, I know. You're allergic."

"How did you know that?" she asked, smiling.

"One of the perks of having Tru around," he shrugged. "And I can also tell you that we _won't_ be having Moroccan tonight. Or potatoes for that matter. They kill me. And I say that very literally."

"Wait," her hold on his shoulder tensed, her face suddenly drawn. "You're saying _you_ died last night?"

"Yeah," he smiled wearily. "Been there, done that."

"Well?" she demanded. "Aren't you… worried? I can't believe you're so calm about this."

"It's under control," he patted her on the hand. "I'm staying away from potatoes today."

"And that's it? That's all you need to do?"

"I guess," he shrugged. "But there's a larger issue. Tru's not just reliving yesterday; this is a second rewind for her, and different people have died. We're trying to figure out what that means. She has three people to save, and the links between them – well, I should say _me_, too - are tenuous at best."

"Wow," she said quietly. "Must be hard for her."

"I know," he shook his head. "I don't know how she does it."

**-----**

"Does this mean I still have to fix my balcony?" Harrison sounded perplexed. "Or is that, like, not the point anymore?"

"I don't know," Tru said into her phone. "Can you fix it, just in case? It's gonna cost around a thousand dollars, and you can get the money by heading down to the tracks for race four at noon, and you're gonna bet on Four Leaf Clover to win, okay? Four Leaf Clover, don't forget. And cancel your party, I don't want to take any chances."

"Wow, this is shaping up to be a great New Year's Eve, Tru!" his voice was dripping with sarcasm. "What do you plan on doing instead? Have Jensen sit around in your apartment doing nothing for the whole day?"

"Actually, that doesn't seem like a bad idea. In fact, you can come too, help me keep an eye on him. I'll have to check on dad later and I don't wanna leave Jensen on his own."

"Tru, I was _kidding_. I have places to be today, people to meet, you know what I'm sayin'?"

"Please, Harry. This is important."

There was an irritated sigh on the other end. "All right," he finally said. "But you owe me one."

"Thanks," she said with relief. "You're the best."

"And you better not forget it. I accept cash and goods."

"I gave you a tip on the horses, didn't I? Go knock yourself out."

"You know, that's a good point," he sounded distinctly more cheerful at the prospect. "Thanks, sis. I'll be over in the afternoon."

When Tru hung up, she found Jack looking askance at her with a smile. "It's nice to have a sidekick who caters to your every command, isn't it?"

"He's not my _sidekick_," she said, sticking her hands in her pockets. "So what have we got?"

They were walking around the block, still trying to piece together the events that had happened over the past two days. The sun had climbed steadily higher in the sky, showering its clear light down on them, and ostensibly they must have looked no more than any two friends out for a morning stroll. She stole a glance at him, trying to figure out what he thought of this scenario; but as usual his face was a careful blank, shielded by his trademark sardonic smile. "I hate to say it," he said, "but I think what Davis said earlier – or what he didn't say cos you didn't give him a chance to - "

"Of course _you_ would like to see Jensen dead," she said quietly. "If you had your way he'd be long gone by now."

"I told you there'd be repercussions," he said. "This is nothing to do with me now. Everything that happened to him happened on its own. The guy wasn't supposed to be brought back, Tru. You know it, I know it, even Davis knows it. Yet you keep trying."

"And I'll _keep_ trying," she said coldly, "for as long as it takes. You're not stopping me."

"But what if _that_ is your purpose? What if that's the thing that will stop your days from rewinding? Are you still gonna be sitting around after the sixtieth rewind just because you can't let your precious boyfriend go?" His eyes were scintillant in the morning light. "Sooner or later people are gonna stop asking for your help, Tru; and then what? How are you going to save him then? Start killing people yourself?"

"It won't come to that," she said, avoiding his disconcerting gaze. "Plus, if the purpose really was to stop me from saving Jensen, all fate has to do is _not _have someone else ask for help that day. But they're still asking, and Jensen didn't even die yesterday, and I'm stuck here on this rewind with no idea what's going on."

"A mystery for Tru Davies," he sounded like he was enjoying himself.

"What about _you_?" she ignored his cheerful tone. "Learn anything these couple of days that might help _your_ case?"

There was a brief pause. "Nope," he said blithely, "nothing."

But the moment he took to contemplate the question remained, the weight of it conspicuous in the silence that fell after. She stopped walking and turned to him, narrowing her eyes again. "You sure about that?"

"Of course," he said, averting his gaze.

"Spit it out, Jack," she said impatiently. "You know something, I can hear it in your voice. What happened to you yest…?"

His cell phone rang before she had a chance to finish her sentence. "Saved by the bell," he said with a grin, fishing the phone out of his pocket and stepping away. "Excuse me."

She folded her arms over her chest, watching him walk out of earshot, his expression turning serious as he spoke into the receiver. She could still feel that incongruous pause earlier, the half-second too long for him to answer the simple question, and as she watched him she felt the certainty of it, the fact that he _did_ know something, and that he wasn't letting her in.

**-----**

"Jack Harper," said Jack into the phone as he walked away from Tru, casting a glance over his shoulder to make sure she wasn't listening. Their gazes met, briefly; hers mistrustful, his calculating. He quickly turned away again.

"It's me."

"Carrie," he said, lowering his voice. "What's up?"

"Apparently Davis died last night, and it wasn't until Tru told him and he told _me_ that I even found out about it. What's going on, Jack? Are you just not bothering to check in anymore? Thanks for the update!"

"Just calm down," he said irritably. "It's more complicated than that."

"Yeah, so I've heard. Double-rewind and all that. Again, _thank you _for bringing all this to my attention."

"Carrie, it doesn't concern you at this point," he exclaimed, careful not to raise his voice too much. "Give me a break, okay? I've been at this for forty hours straight and I'm still trying to figure things out, so excuse me for not keeping you up with every little detail."

There was a pause. "Are you gonna keep him dead?" she asked, her voice tentative.

"Who?"

"_Davis_, Jack. The guy who died last night. The one whose fate you're supposed to keep in line."

"I told you, it's complicated," he sighed impatiently. "Just _wait_, okay? I'll call you later when I figure this thing out."

"Oh, and what am I supposed to do in the meantime?"

"Keep him occupied! Go on your date!"

"Jack." Her voice sounded strained. "I hate to be asking this, but… does he _have_ to die? I mean…"

Without realising it, his jaw slackened. "Carrie," he said slowly. "Does it really matter to you whether Davis dies or not?"

There was no answer.

"You know what," he said, suddenly feeling weary to the bone. "Just do what you want. Nothing makes any sense anymore. Something happened yesterday…" he sighed and trailed off. "Let's just say I'm having a few doubts of my own about this whole 'restoring fate' scenario. I'll call you later."

"Be careful, Jack," her voice was soft on the other end.

"Fortune favours the brave," he sighed again, flipping the phone shut and walking back toward Tru. "Hey," he said with an easy grin, "sorry. Work colleague."

"I didn't think you worked," she eyed him disdainfully. "Aren't you living on gambling proceeds these days?"

"A gentleman never divulges all his secrets," he shrugged.

"So what's stopping _you_?" she asked, a small smile surfacing despite the snide words. "Hey listen, I've gotta go. I'm supposed to meet Jensen in ten minutes. Don't," she added warningly when she saw his expression. "I know what you're gonna say, so just… don't. We'll have to agree to disagree on that one." For a moment a look of confusion crossed her face. "That, and… just about everything else."

He laughed. "I'll see you later, Tru."

"Yeah," she paused, looking at him. "Thanks for your help."

"Thank _you_," he inclined his head with a smile.

"Call me if…" she trailed off, shrugging. "I dunno. I don't know anything anymore."

"I know what you mean," he said under his breath as he watched her run off down the street.

**-----**

"You know," said Jensen as Tru ran up to greet him at the campus café, "the weirdest thing happened today."

"Oh yeah?" she grinned, sliding into her seat. "What's that?"

"I woke up this morning and for a moment, I seriously thought I was dying," he said, smiling quizzically. "For some reason – maybe cos it was what I was dreaming about, though I don't remember it – I had this absolutely clear image of falling through the air and knowing that I was gonna crack my skull open or something when I land. It was completely bizarre."

"That _is_ bizarre," she laughed weakly, changing the subject. "So, um, I was hoping we could hang out today."

"Sure," he agreed happily. "I just have to go visit Avery at the clinic; she's - "

"Working an extra shift, I know," she said. "Mind if I join you?"

"Of course not. How did you know - "

"I'm psychic," she said dryly as she took him by the hand. "Come on, let's get some food. I'm starving."

**-----**

"Hey guys!" Avery grinned as Jensen and Tru came in. "What's up?"

"Just dropping by to see my favourite doctor in the clinic," said Tru, and she shook her head slightly as she reached over to give the other girl a hug; it felt a little surreal to have now had the exactly same exchange three times in a row. It wasn't common, even in her line of work. "Happy New Year, guys."

"Watch the sweet talk," Jensen laughed. "I might get jealous."

"You will never have what Tru and I have," chuckled Avery. "Ours is a _fated_ love."

At the sound of that word, Tru couldn't help darting a glance in Jensen's direction. In the early-afternoon light he was the picture of good health, his hair bright gilt, his eyes a startling shade of blue. She looked away quickly, biting her lower lip. Despite her resistance, Davis and Jack's words have burrowed into her consciousness, planting a seed of doubt in her own convictions.

"If I can't have it," he raised an eyebrow. "Can I at least _watch_ this fated love?"

"_Men_," Avery shook her head and rolled her eyes as Tyler and Jensen exchanged a high-five. Tru merely wrapped her arms around herself, feeling a sudden chill creep up from the familiarity of all this.

"Come on," Jensen chuckled. "You walked right into that one… oh, _ow_."

Tru watched, mutely, as Avery rushed toward him, demanding, "Are you okay?"

"Yeah…" he said, a little sheepishly. "I think my leg just had a cramp in it or something. It's nothing."

"You don't keel over in agony over a cramp," said Avery, looking worried. "Let me check you up. We can use one of the spare exam rooms."

"No, seriously, I'm fine," he protested with an embarrassed laugh. "Help, Tru, don't let her get her hands on me."

"Hey!" Avery exclaimed, feigning indignation as she placed her hands on her hips. "This is what I get for being a good friend?"

"I wouldn't mind a woman fawning over me, man," Tyler piped up. "She might be treating you like a med school guinea pig, but dude, that's a factor I'm willing to overlook."

"It's nothing," said Jensen, straightening up and stretching his leg. "See, it's all gone now. Must be just a muscle spasm or something."

"I still think - " said Avery, looking at Tru for confirmation. "You'll back me up, right? He should get a check-up."

"Actually," Tru said, smiling, although she felt the cold fear seeping through her insides, as certain as daylight. "I think it's a muscle spasm, too. Don't worry about it…"

**-----**

When Carrie returned to her office, Jack was waiting for her. "Hey," he said affably from his seat on her desk. "Boyfriend still alive?"

"He's not my boyfriend," she said, closing the door behind her. "What are you doing here? Finally decided to include me in the loop?"

"No," he said. "Because there _is_ no loop. Well," he grinned slightly, shaking his head at the choice of words. "Actually, the problem is that there's too much of a loop. Today's been dragging on."

"A double rewind," she said, sitting down next to him. "Interesting. Do you need help?"

"First I have to figure out what I need help _with_. Tru thinks there is a reason why we keep reliving today. Everything should happen for a specific purpose, but the deaths are only loosely linked; Davis wouldn't have died if Tru didn't draw on her knowledge of the previous day to change his plans about dinner, but that by itself doesn't mean much from a causal perspective. Which then begs the question – why did we rewind again? What's the crucial connection between Davis asking for help and Richard asking for help? With me so far?"

She looked at him. "Don't ever underestimate my intelligence, Jack."

"Should have seen that coming. You said it yesterday, too. So I've been thinking – what am _I_ supposed to do? Usually, I have to try and undo whatever Tru's doing. Keep everything the same. But it doesn't seem to work like that this time. If fate's directing her in a specific direction, then who am I to mess with that? I'm supposed to be the one working _with_ fate here."

"It's not like you haven't worked with her before."

"I know." For a moment he looked pensive.

"What does Richard say about this?" she asked.

"I didn't go to him," he said woodenly.

"Why not?"

"Let's just say," he glanced at her with a peculiar smile. "I'm losing my faith in the system."

"What did he _do_, Jack?"

He looked toward the window. "Nothing a normal person wouldn't have done in that situation. But…" he shrugged. "Maybe… I don't know. Somehow I expected… well, something else."

"I know being cryptic is your forte," she said irritably, "but give me to something to work with here, Jack. What the hell are you talking about?"

He gave her a slow, measured look. "He threatened to kill me," he said quietly. "When he realised I needed to put his death back on track."

She looked taken aback. "But he should know better than anyone that - "

"_Should _being the operative word. Don't you think I've had that conversation already?"

She nodded, looking as though she was still trying to absorb the information. "So… what next?" she asked, placing an arm around his shoulders.

"I don't know," he said with a heavy sigh. "I don't even know what I'm supposed to do right now. What Richard did… it really makes me wonder if - "

He didn't get to finish his sentence as the office door opened. "Hey, sorry to interrupt," said Davis, sticking his head into the room, "I just figured maybe we should cancel…"

He trailed off, staring at Jack.

"Davis," Carrie said quickly, removing her arm from Jack's shoulder. "This… isn't what it seems."

"It seems like you are a mole that Jack planted here so he can find out what Tru's doing," said Davis, blankly.

"Well…" she faltered. "Yeah, that part's true; but - "

"My god," Davis said, blinking as though he were a nocturnal animal that was suddenly wrenched out into daylight. "I can't believe… it all makes sense. I can't handle this…"

"Join the club, by all means," Jack offered with a wry lift of the brow.

Davis stared at him, shaking his head mutely. It was a moment before he turned his eyes on Carrie, an expression of abject despair crossing his face.

"I can't believe I trusted you," he said, his voice a mere whisper, before he turned away and strode quickly down the hall.

"Davis," she exclaimed, chasing after him without another glance at Jack. "Davis! Wait!"

"And Jack is all alone on New Year's Eve, again," Jack murmured to himself, turning toward the window once more. As he gazed into the setting sun, the orange-gold light tinting him with gilded copper, a despondent look crossed his placid demeanour, and he buried his head in his hands.

**-----**

"Buffy… the _Vampire Slayer_," said Jensen dubiously, reading the back of a DVD case.

"I'm tellin' you, man," Harrison said, plopping himself down on Tru's couch with the remote. "Once you start watching, you never go back."

"From a really bad place?"

"Ha ha, _funny_," Harrison shot him a dirty look. "Seriously, dude, give Buffy a chance. If nothing else, she's hot. The rest of the girls on the shows aren't half bad, either. Witches! Lesbians! You know what I'm sayin'? Wait until you get to season three, _that'_s when…"

"I'm sorry," said Tru as she emerged from the kitchenette with a couple of beers, "is my brother disturbing you with his obsessive stalker Buffy talk?"

"A little," laughed Jensen as she sat down next to him. "Dude, it's about a high school girl with _superpowers_. Isn't that…"

"Choose your words very carefully, man," warned Harrison, tossing a handful of popcorn into his mouth and pressing Play on the remote.

Jensen turned to Tru with a raised eyebrow. "Is he for real?"

"It's not a good idea to cheat him out of his Buffy love," she said, laughing. "That I know. Excuse me," she added as her cell phone rang and she got up, heading out of the room. "Keep an eye on him," she said in an undertone as she passed Harrison.

"Received," he yawned, tossing another piece of popcorn into the air and trying to catch it in his mouth. It hit his forehead instead.

Shaking her head with a smile, she walked into the kitchenette. "Yeah?" she said into the phone.

"Tru, it's Davis."

"Davis, what - "

"Just listen. Turns out Carrie's in cahoots with Jack."

"_What?"_

**-----**_  
_

Meanwhile, back in the lounge, the TV screen gave an angry flicker and took on a multitude of squiggly coloured lines. "Damn it," said Harrison, looking dismayed. "I think the machine's broken."

"I'll have a look," volunteered Jensen, getting up from the couch. "I'm pretty good at fixing this kind of stuff."

"Boyfriends who fix things," Harrison said under his breath as he watched Jensen crouch down behind the TV set. "Nice work, sis."

**-----**

"Yeah," Davis' voice was laced with bitterness. "Apparently she's been working with him all this time. God, I feel so _stupid_."

"How did you find this out?" Tru demanded.

"I ran into them in her office. They looked pretty damn cosy."

"Oh, Davis," she sighed. "I'm so sorry. Where are you now?"

"In my office. Go away!" he suddenly shouted. "Oh, no, not you, Tru. I locked the door and she's trying to get in."

"Why?"

"How should I know? She keeps saying she wants to talk to me."

"Is that such a bad idea?" she asked slowly. "I mean, maybe she has information we could use. Look, Davis, I know this is a huge shock and everything, but we still haven't figured out what we're dealing with. I've resorted to swapping information with Jack; maybe this is what we're meant to do – work together. Maybe you should talk to her."

"I can't just… pretend like it's no big deal," he said quietly, after a long pause.

"Of course not," she said impatiently. "But maybe all that has to take a back seat right now."

"Maybe you're right," he sighed. "All right, I'll see what she wants. But hey, if it turns out she just wants to get in here to shoot me or something… I'm not going to be very happy tomorrow."

"Good luck."

"And..." he said hesitantly. "I know this doesn't mean much in hindsight, but... I've got to tell you, I feel so bad about it. I... I kind of told her about your powers. Last week."

"_Davis_," she exclaimed, exasperated. "But you _said_ you weren't going to - "

"I know, I know," he mumbled. "But I wasn't thinking, she was just so nice and understanding and..." he trailed off, leaving only a despondent silence.

She sighed. "I understand. Not that it matters now anyway. Go. Talk to her."

"You're not mad at me?" he asked tentatively.

"Honestly? I have too many other things to worry about right now," she sighed again. "Call me if you find out anything."

When she hung up and returned to the living room, the first thing she saw was Jensen crouched behind the television. "What's going on?" she demanded. "What are you doing?"

"What?" Harrison glanced up quizzically. "Your machine is busted. He's just checkin' it out."

"Are you crazy?" she hissed. "What part of _keep an eye on him_ don't you understand? Jensen," she said urgently as she turned toward the other man, "maybe you shouldn't - "

"Nearly done," his muffled voice could be heard from behind the TV. "Just some busted wiring, nothing major. I just need to - "

The next moment, there was a faint, inauspicious crackling, a sound almost like a zipper being torn open. Tru and Harrison dashed forward just in time to see Jensen's body suddenly seized with a series of spasms, his eyes rolling back in his head, his fingers still scrabbling across the electrical wiring.

**-----**

"Fine, you want to talk? We'll talk."

Carrie pitched forward when the door she'd been knocking on for the past fifteen minutes suddenly opened, revealing a dishevelled Davis behind it. He reached out instinctively, grabbing her around the waist to steady her fall. But as their eyes met, he immediately let go, striding to the other side of the office. "So what do you have to say for yourself?" he demanded, not looking at her.

"Look, I _know_ it doesn't look good…" she began, wringing her hands.

"You're right about that."

"But you need to give me a chance, all right? Just let me explain."

"You can start by explaining how you know Jack." He glanced at her briefly, swallowing. "Are you… are you two _involved_?"

"God, no!" she exclaimed, looking as though she might smile at the question.

"You two looked pretty… pretty intimate back there," he said, his tone coming out abruptly accusatory.

"We're not involved!" she exclaimed. "Is _that_ what you're worried about? We're not - "

"Why should I trust anything you say now?"

She stared at him, her expression a mixture of anxiety and baffled amusement.

"He's my _brother_, Davis."

**-----**

**Author's Note: **went back and corrected a factual error that Toasterlicious pointed out. Thank you very much!


	4. Part Four

**Part Four**

"Jack's your _what_ now?" asked Davis, staring.

"Brother," Carrie answered matter-of-factly. "Half-brother, actually. Same father."

"So you grew up together."

"Actually, we'd only met a few years ago. Estranged parents and all that. Long sob story, I'll spare you the details."

"How kind of you," he said darkly.

She ignored him. "Basically, I helped him out when he first started rewinding and thought he was going crazy. It kind of went on from there."

"Whoa, whoa," he said. "Just… hold on for a second. I'm still trying to process this. _You _and _Jack_… are _related_? But he planted you here, right?"

"Since you guys found out what he does and kicked him out of the morgue, he couldn't keep tabs on Tru anymore, so yeah," she shrugged. "I offered to help him out."

"And it doesn't bother you that he kills people?"

"He doesn't _kill _people, Davis," she sighed. "Why do you and Tru keep saying that? It's not true. He only tries to keep fate in balance, just like what Tru's trying to do right now with this whole double-rewind business! They're not arch-nemeses - "

"Well, actually," he said, frowning, "they kind of are."

"My _point _is," she said irritably. "It doesn't always have to be this way. Sometimes, like today, they seem to be working toward a common goal. Why does it have to be a fight all the time? Why can't we at least _try _to get along?"

"Uh, let's see." Sarcasm was thick in his tone. "Could it be because you betrayed us?"

"You have your loyalties, Davis," she said quietly. "And I have mine. He's my brother. I have to help him."

"But did you have to do it through _me_?" he shouted suddenly, clenching his fists. "God, all this time I actually thought there was something between us - "

"There _is_!" she exclaimed. "Davis, I never meant to hurt you - "

"Oh, god," he turned away with a short laugh. "If this were a movie, it would be right about now that you tell me you started with bad intentions but have now fallen in love with me."

There was a pause.

"Well," she said, her voice soft. "Yeah. Something like that."

He whirled around, his eyes wide. "I'm sorry, could you please… please repeat that?"

"You heard me," she looked away, colouring under his scrutiny.

"Yeah…" he said. "But, uh, I don't think my… my hearing is functioning properly."

"Stop it, Davis." Her voice was dropping below a whisper. "Just… stop it."

"What… uh… um," he swallowed. "What are you… uh… trying to say?"

"I _like _you," she said, lifting her head with a determined look in her eye. "Okay? I said it. I do like you. Independently of what's going on with Jack and Tru and the rest of… _everything_. I never meant to…" she shook her head, looking frustrated. "I mean, I - "

The sudden ringing of the telephone interrupted her words. He glanced at it, annoyed, and looked back at her.

"You should answer it," she said softly. "I'm not going anywhere."

With a sigh, he picked up the receiver. "City Morgue, Davis speaking."

"Davis." The voice on the other end was subdued. "It's Tru."

**-----**

"At least you know I had nothing to do with it this time," said Jack, striding into the examination room at the morgue, holding a couple of paper cups.

Tru was standing beside Jensen's body, which they'd brought in soon after his accident. Harrison had come with her; he was now sitting in the check-in room with Davis and Carrie, all three of them looking worriedly at her through the viewing window.

Earlier, she had brushed off all their consoling words, annoyed at the fact that, even then, they had looked understanding. She had heard Carrie whisper _in denial_ to Davis as they quietly left the room, and she had felt like screaming. At the sound of Jack's voice she looked up, and, even though she was loath to admit it, felt a little comforted by the very fact of his presence. He, at least, knew exactly what she was going through. He had been there since the start.

"Second time in… what is it? Three days?" he asked, setting down his cups on the other examination table. "You still gonna deny that fate's trying to send you a message?"

"I've said it before and I'm gonna say it now," she replied wearily. "Don't even start."

"You know he won't ask, right?" His gaze seemed unusually gentle, despite the careless words.

She nodded, the movement so small as to be nearly imperceptible. "Doesn't mean the day won't rewind, though. We still haven't figured out what the hell is going on."

"And with that thought in mind, I brought more coffee," he smiled thinly, handing her one of the cups. "Cheers. Let's hope for another day."

"Thanks."

He seemed to catch the surprised element in her voice. "What?" he asked with a crooked grin. "I can't do something nice now and again? We're trying to achieve the same thing here, Tru; we're both trying to find out what fate wants us to do. Teamwork. Like Christmas Eve. You can't have forgotten already."

"No, I haven't forgotten," she said quietly.

He merely nodded and sipped his coffee in silence.

**-----**

Inside the check-in room, Davis leaned back against his desk and crossed his arms. "I guess we should contact Jensen's family," he said with an air of weariness, glancing at the others.

"Uh," said Harrison, looking askance at Carrie. "Tru said to hold off in case… you know. Davis," he beckoned the other man over, lowering his voice to a hiss, "why is _she_ still here? You _know_ she works for Jack. Tru told me on the way over."

"Jack, if you haven't noticed," said Davis heavily, "is out there right now making plans with Tru herself. I guess the normal rules don't apply in this round."

"I can hear what you're saying, you know," said Carrie from her seat over on the couch, with a slight smile.

Davis couldn't help smiling back sheepishly. Harrison, on the other hand, gave the woman a thoroughly mistrustful glance before he turned to look at Tru and Jack through the office window. "That's the other thing," he muttered. "When did _they_ start being buddies? I _knew_ something was up as soon as she brought him home for Christmas dinner. What the hell was that all about?"

"It's Day Three," said Carrie before Davis could answer. "They've talked before this. They're still trying to figure out what this whole thing means. What their purpose is. That's why they're working together: fate seems to want something specific this time, and neither of them knows what that is. But unless they figure it out, I think the day won't stop rewinding."

"This is just too weird," muttered Harrison, turning back to the window. Davis, on the other hand, glanced over his shoulder and couldn't help looking distinctly impressed. She gave him another small smile.

**-----**

"So… what now?" asked Jack, his eyes flickering over Tru's expression with a mixture of what seemed rue and understanding.

"I honestly don't know," she answered, chewing her lower lip. "I wish I did. I wish I knew what to do next. But… I guess we can only wait and see what's gonna trigger the next rewind."

"You're not even entertaining the notion that you might not rewind this time?"

"No," she said flatly, not looking at him.

"You covered his face," he said quietly, looking down at Jensen's body. "Does that mean you're not even hoping he'd ask now?"

"Don't read too much into it," she said warningly, though there was a hesitant glint in her eye that was affirmation enough. He caught the look and nodded slowly, as though to himself.

"Tru."

They both turned at the sound of Davis' voice. He had made his way out of the office, and was now leaning against the far wall, his arms crossed over his chest, looking uncharacteristically grave. Beside him stood Harrison and Carrie, wearing identical expressions of slight perplexity.

"Yeah," Tru said, with a quick glance at Jack that did not go unnoticed by any of them.

"I think…" Davis paused, with an imploring look. "Maybe you should head on home. You've had enough happen for one day. And it's New Year's Eve, after all…"

"Davis," she said incredulously, "I can't. Do you not realise what's happening? _Something_ is gonna happen, and soon, too. I can't just pack up and leave!"

"Jensen is not going to ask," he said, his tone firm. "You know that, right? Tru, you've got to face facts here - "

"Could everyone, please," she demanded, "just get off my back? I don't need to hear this!"

"He's not going to ask!" exclaimed Davis. "When are you gonna _realise _that?"

"And when are you going to trust me enough to handle this myself?" she demanded. "I've _done_ this, Davis; I've lived this day _twice_ already. I'm finding things out, I'm piecing stuff together; what else do you want from me?"

"How about admitting that you made a mistake bringing him back?" his voice was getting louder. "Tru, why can't you just accept that he is _supposed to die_?"

"He's got a point, you know," said Jack softly from behind her.

"_Don't you start_," she whirled on him angrily. "Just… leave Jensen out of this, okay? Why can't anyone see that something else is at work here? Nothing's been resolved, what fate wanted hasn't been - "

"What if all that fate wanted was for Jensen to die?" Jack interrupted. "Maybe your father only asked the first time because he wasn't supposed to die with him!"

"I don't believe that, Jack," she said brusquely. "There's something bigger at stake here, I can _feel_ it."

"Tru," Davis exclaimed, "you know I'll back you up on almost anything, but I really think Jack might have a point - "

"Great judgment call, Davis! Just like when you thought _she_," Tru pointed at Carrie, "was innocent?"

"Hey," Carrie held up both hands, looking startled. "Don't drag me into this."

"That's not the issue here!" Davis shouted. "Tru, this is about what _you _did with _Jensen_ - "

"Great, don't worry about your own mistakes but just focus on mine. Please! Feel free! Go right ahead!"

"It wasn't really Davis's fault," Carrie interjected. "I mean, in all honesty, I _did_ string him along - "

"Well," spat Tru, "aren't _you_ little miss virtuous, owning up like that - "

"Hey," Jack interrupted. "Lay off her, it wasn't her idea to come work here; it was mine, okay?"

"Yeah, and that's _another_ thing!" Tru exclaimed. "What the hell is the deal with you two, anyway? What, you just met up one day and decided, hey, let's all work for evil and gang up on Tru?"

"He's not working for _evil_ - " said Carrie, sounding exasperated, while at the same time Davis offered, "They are brother and sister."

Tru's eyes widened as she swirled to face Jack. "She's your _sister_?"

"Half-sister," he replied. "To be more exact."

Harrison, who had been watching the increasingly heated exchange as though he were at a tennis doubles game, perked up. "Hey," he said. "Cool. Just like me and Tru. Except… not the half part."

The others glanced at him with varying degrees of irritation evident in their expressions, and he held up a hand, taking a step back. "I'm just _saying_. Geez."

"I just think you're making a mistake, Tru," said Davis slowly, with another disgruntled look at Harrison. "Maybe there _is_ no higher purpose; maybe this whole thing is supposed to culminate in Jensen dying while leaving your father unscathed - "

"I don't accept that."

"It's not up to you whether to accept it or not!" he yelled at her, losing his composure. "You're not God, Tru! You don't get to control these things!"

"I _know_ that," she said through gritted teeth. "But I also know this isn't finished; the day's gonna rewind again, I feel it in my bones. It's not over."

He shook his head disbelievingly. "Jesus, Tru…"

"Don't _Jesus_ me!" she shouted. "Why can't you just believe me, Davis?"

"And why can't _you_ just entertain the notion that maybe this is over?" he shouted back. "God, I feel like you don't have any respect for my opinions anymore - "

"That goes both ways, Davis," she said bitterly, shooting a dark look at Carrie. "Didn't I tell you _specifically _not to tell her? We had the conversation, and then what happens? You went straight out and - "

"Can I just point out," Jack interjected, "that it didn't really matter since she knew anyway - "

"That's not the point!" exclaimed Tru and Davis simultaneously, glaring. Jack raised an eyebrow, falling silent again.

"Tru," Davis said, his voice softening. "We used to be friends."

"We _are_ friends."

"So why have you stopped listening to me?" he sighed, looking exasperated. "Doesn't my opinion matter to you anymore? God, sometimes I think you just… just think of me as your _sidekick_ or something. And I'm… I'm not comfortable with that, okay? I don't want to be the guy that you lead around by the nose, and I don't want to be the guy who's just there for… comic relief or something. And if that's the way you see me…"

He threw up his hands as though he could no longer get the words out. Meeting her eyes for a moment, he shook his head sadly. They watched in silence as he turned and walked out.

"_Davis_," Carrie said after a moment, running after him. They could hear the rapid clicking of her heels disappearing down the corridor.

Jack and Harrison both looked at Tru, identical expressions of reproach on their faces.

"_What_?" she demanded crossly, turning back to Jensen's body. "He started it."

"Tru, listen to me," Harrison said. "I know you're stressed and all, but is this _really _a good time to ostracise Davis?"

"Actually, yeah," she said, crossing her arms. "I'm waiting for a rewind, remember?"

"If the day rewinds at all," Jack said. "And Tru - aren't you forgetting something?"

"_What_?"

"Davis _died_ last night," he said slowly, as though he were explaining this to a small child. "Doesn't matter if it's potatoes or pieces of a jet engine falling on his head. He's not out of the woods yet. Are you really just gonna let him go like that? Are you willing to bet his_ life_ on your belief that today's going to rewind?"

She drew in a sharp breath before she narrowed her eyes at him. "Why are _you_, of all people, saying this? Isn't it your duty to keep him dead?"

He only shrugged. There was a pause, the hush pressing down between them, thick and austere with the weight of many things passed over in silence.

"I'm getting a little sick of my duties," he said finally, looking down.

She gazed at him, something flickering in the depths of her eyes. "Me too," she said quietly as she strode out the door.

Jack remained where he was, staring at the linoleum floor, his brows furrowed.

Harrison was still looking at him sceptically. "Dude," he said. "That was kinda decent of you. Which makes me worry you've just sent her into a trap or somethin'. I dunno what it is, but I don't like it."

"Think whatever you want, Harrison," said Jack wearily, and he did not look up.

With a puzzled frown Harrison, too, turned and left.

"I guess it's just you and me, buddy," Jack said to Jensen's body with a small smile. But as he stared up at the florescent lights, it was clear that the smile did not reach his melancholy eyes.

**-----**

"Davis, wait up," called Carrie as she ran out onto the sidewalk. "Wait!"

In the confusion between his finding out about Carrie and Jack, and Jensen's body being brought in, night had slowly fallen. The light from the street lamps pooled into misty yellow circles on the road, and they could hear the sound of faint raucous laughter coming from the bar around the corner. It was, after all, New Year's Eve.

He stopped on the side of the road, sticking his hands in his pockets. "Please, Carrie," he said. "I just need some time to… to think."

"She's just frustrated," she said softly. "She didn't mean to come off so harsh. Just give her a couple of hours, and if the day doesn't rewind, then she'll have to accept things as they are."

"Yeah," he said, looking at his feet. "I'm not really worried about that."

"Then…" she furrowed her brows. "Then what?"

"Look," he said, glancing back at her, his dark eyes virtually black in the night. "I'm just… I'm getting the feeling that… um," he paused again, looking frustrated.

"Davis," she said softly. "I know everything that happened today has been… well, overwhelming. But - "

"I just feel like I'm being used by everybody, you know?" he suddenly blurted out. "Tru used to come to me for advice, but now… now she's doing what she does, and she's great at it, and when she comes to me it _seems_ like she's asking for advice but I don't think she's hearing me at all. And there's… there's the thing with _you_…"

"I'm sorry," she whispered, lowering her eyes.

"I'm not trying to…" he sighed. "I'm not trying to make you feel bad. It's just everything has sort of come up all at once and…" he shook his head, stepping off the curb. "I think I need a drink. I'll see you back at the morgue."

"Do you want me to…" she trailed off uncertainly.

He glanced back, looking as though he were debating the idea. But finally he shook his head with a small smile. "I… kind of need some alone time right now. You… you understand, right?"

She nodded slowly. With another apologetic look, he turned to go.

"Davis!" she exclaimed as a sleek red sports car careened out of a side street, deep bass notes shuddering from its open windows. The high beams carved a swathe of harsh light across the street, for a moment making their surroundings glare as brightly as any given day.

He turned sharply, just in time to see the car head straight toward him. For a moment he could see nothing but the dazzling flare of the headlights; then, he caught a split-second image of the terrified face behind the wheel. It was a boy, scarcely sixteen or seventeen by the looks of it, and frozen with fear at the sight of Davis stepping from the curb, the weight of momentum carrying them to what seemed an inevitable conclusion.

"_DAVIS!"_

With Carrie's anguished cry, he felt a violent shove in his side, sending him sprawling onto the road and out of harm's way. He struck the asphalt on all fours, and for a moment his vision swam out of focus as pain shot up his limbs, hot and jarring. Behind him, he heard the squealing of tires, a soft moan, and the unmistakable _crunch_ of metal upon bone.

"Carrie," he whispered, even before he had turned around.

That was when Tru ran out of the building.

The car had screeched to a stop. Carrie was lying on the road several feet away, the impact having knocked her forward. Her eyes were open and staring, and a streak of blood ran from an open wound in her forehead.

Davis vaguely heard the sound of footsteps and car doors slamming as he crawled toward her. "Carrie," he murmured, "Carrie…"

There was the sound of confused and terrified mutterings beside him, an overwhelming chaos of _oh my god_s and _I didn't see you_s and _I'm so sorry_s, and Tru's anxious voice saying _Davis, Davis_ over and over again, but none of it really registered. With the intuitive practice that came from years of medical training, he found that he had placed two fingers on the base of Carrie's neck before he even knew what he was doing.

There was no pulse.

**-----**

And now there were two bodies.

They were displayed under the white lights in the morgue, lined up side by side. Tru paced between them, her expression tense, now and again exchanging a look with Jack, who stood in a corner of the room, his arms crossed over his chest. It almost looked as though he were hugging himself, out of the cold or something else. His expression was unreadable, as it had been for the past two hours, through the jumbled commotion, the brief questionings as the police came and went, and the silence after.

The blinds to the check-in room were pulled, but she could see the soft glow of the desk lamp through it, the shadowy figures of Davis and Harrison on the couch. "Maybe I should…" she began, staring at Davis' silhouette. His head was bowed, and he seemed perfectly immobile.

"You can't do anything for him right now," Jack said quietly. He was half-immersed in shadow, the colour of his eyes deepening to cobalt. "The best thing for you to do is to stay here, and hope that she asks for your help."

She nodded, turning to look at Carrie. She had been cleaned up after she was brought in, the smears of blood wiped from her skin and the wounds cleansed; now she simply looked as though she were resting, her face a pale mask of calm beneath the harsh lights.

"How are _you_ doing?" Tru suddenly asked, looking up at Jack. "She's your… she's your sister…"

His expression, or as much as she could see of it, was impassive. Under her scrutiny he turned away, and she could see his throat working, but he said nothing.

And it was the sight of him, more than anything else, that drove home for her the distinct possibility that this might just be the end of it. Jensen – gone. Carrie – gone. All her gestures, all her actions for the past three days… all coming to nothing. The shock of recognising this, the genuine possibility, felt like acid dissipating in her bloodstream. Suddenly she realised that there was a hot, liquid pressure building up behind her eyes. "Jack," she whispered, choking back a sob. "This can't be the end. It just… can't."

He turned back to her, and for a moment he remained in the shadows, his face a careful blank.

She could feel a tear slowly making its track down her cheek. And ordinarily it would have been humiliating, to even entertain the thought that he could see her in this state, this admission of weakness; but that time was not now. She felt the certainty of it as much as anything else she ever did. His expression was slowly changing, shifting from vacant to sorrowful to understanding. His gaze was steady, and the longer she held onto it the more comfort she seemed to draw. "Jack," she said again, her voice breaking. "I don't know what to do."

She watched him take one tentative step forward, emotion sweeping across his eyes like a storm breaking. And then he was suddenly before her and her face was pressed into his shoulder and she could feel the reassuring weight of his arms wrapped around her. She was crying, her body racking with silent sobs, her tears soaking into his shirt and he was murmuring _shh_ into her ear as though he, Jack Harper, was the most logical person in the world to be doing this. "She'll ask," he whispered, his lips pressed to her hair. "It's not over; she will ask."

"How can you be sure?" she asked brokenly, clinging to him, pressing a hand over her mouth to stop further sobs from escaping.

"Because _you _were sure, earlier," he said, pulling back just a little so that he could look into her eyes. "And I trust that. I trust you to know."

She gazed at him, his concerned expression made indistinct through a fog of tears, and at that moment both of them seemed to realise what was happening, and they sprang apart.

They stared at each other, shock and uncertainty written all over their faces. She fought back a violent shiver; without his arms around her, the room suddenly felt freezing cold.

"Tru," he spoke first, licking his dry lips as though he wanted to say something profound, something that would tear down the walls between them once and for all; but he only fell silent, jerking his gaze away.

"I…" she began, still staring at him. "Jack…"

"_Tru_."

Automatically, she turned toward the sound of the voice.

Carrie's eyes had flown open, and they were staring straight at her.

"_Help me_."


	5. Part Five

**Part Five**

"What the hell just happened?" Tru murmured as she awoke, running a hand over her face as she thought back to what had transpired only moments earlier. She could still feel the weight of Jack's arms around her, the unbidden sense of protection. Unexpectedly, she could feel a flood of warmth spreading across her cheeks, and even more unexpectedly she felt a surge of relief that he was not here to witness it.

Shaking her head, she sat up and looked out the window. Silver sunlight again filled the ice-blue sky, and she could hear the welcome sound of congested morning traffic in the street below. She reached for the phone, meaning to call Jack, but hesitated as her fingers touched the cool metal. Biting her lower lip, she glanced out the window again, trying to will away the sense of brief weightlessness, the memory of his bewildering embrace.

Before she could do anything else, however, the phone rang, startling her so much that she dropped it on her lap, and she spent two or three rings fumbling before she could finally flip it open. One glance at the caller display sent a jolt of adrenaline through her bloodstream and she took a deep breath, hitting the speak button. "Jack?"

"Yeah, it's me. Day Four. Let's get this show on the road."

"Meet me at the morgue in half an hour," she said. "And we'll regroup."

"Sounds good." He hung up without further ado. She looked down at the phone for a moment, slightly thrown, but then she shook her head resolutely and slid out of bed. It was a new day, and Jensen still needed saving.

**-----**

"Jensen?" Tru said into her phone as she jogged toward City Morgue. "Hey. Just checking if we're still on for brunch? … Great. I'll see you at the campus café in half an hour."

She dodged a group of pedestrians and turned the corner, trying to keep her eyes on the road while she hit Harrison on speed dial. "Hey, it's me."

"Hey sis," came his cheerful voice over the line. "What's up?"

"Drop everything today," she said urgently. "No time to explain. You need to fix your balcony railing."

"Rewind day?" he asked knowingly.

"Third time in a row," she sighed, stifling a yawn. "Everyone dies, Jensen's a walking time bomb, I'm so desperate I'm pumping _Jack_ for information… just fix the goddamn railing, okay? I'll explain everything later. Oh, and Harrison? It's gonna set you back about a thousand dollars, so I want you to go to the tracks and bet on the noon race, number four, on a horse called Four Leaf Clover. You got that?"

"Will do. And Tru?"

"Yeah?"

"You ever think about doin' this on a regular occasion? You know, supplementing your brother's income with a little somethin' extra?"

"_Not_ a good time, Harrison," she panted as she ran into the morgue building. "Just do what I tell you, and I'll explain everything later, I promise."

As she looked down to put the phone back in her pocket, she ran straight into Jack at the elevators. "Oh!" she exclaimed as they collided, "I'm sorry…"

"You all right?" he asked, grinning.

"Yeah, fine," she muttered, hastily looking away and punching the elevator down button. Out of her peripheral vision, she could see him watching her, the corner of his lips tugging upward in an expression of knowing amusement.

**-----**

"Morning," said Carrie at the door to Davis' office. "Hard at work, as usual?"

"Oh, you know," he turned around. "I like to, uh, work…"

There was an awkward beat, and he reddened. She laughed. "Looking forward to our date tonight?"

"Definitely. And you?"

She smiled back, nodding. Looking pleased, he was just about to say something else when footsteps thundered down the hall and, a moment later, Jack and Tru burst in the door side by side.

"Tru? _Jack_?" Davis exclaimed, jumping to his feet. Behind him, Carrie too looked for a moment as though she were going to speak, but she seemed to hold her tongue just on time.

"Rewind day, no time to explain," said Tru to Davis.

"Tru knows that you know about her," said Jack to Carrie.

"And don't think I'm not still mad at you about that," said Tru to Davis.

"So there's no point in hiding it anymore," said Jack to Carrie.

"Me and Jack are working together today," said Tru.

"Multiple rewinds, trying to figure out what fate wants," said Jack.

"Jack planted Carrie here to find out what I've been doing," said Tru.

"She's my sister and she's been helping me," said Jack.

"But don't get too angry because it turns out she actually _does _like you…"

"Since she died trying to save you…"

"Actually, you both died…"

"On separate rewinds…"

"Don't eat potatoes…"

"Don't step in front of cars…"

"In fact, just… stay here and… don't move, either of you," said Tru. "We gotta go. Explain later."

And with that, she and Jack turned and ran out again. Davis and Carrie could hear their footsteps echoing down the hall.

They turned to look at each other, stunned into speechlessness.

**-----**

"So what do we know?" asked Tru as she and Jack rode the elevator back up.

"Well, it seems like you were right, something bigger is at stake. Otherwise there would've been no point in this rewind."

"I _told_ you so."

"Hey, _I _told you I believed you, didn't I?"

She glanced at him sharply as she recalled the events just prior to the rewind. He was wearing that knowing smile again. She could feel herself blushing once more, and strode forward hurriedly when the elevator doors opened. He followed, still smiling. "I guess you'll be checking on Jensen."

"Yeah, that's right."

There was an awkward silence, and she risked sneaking a peek in his direction. The grin had slipped off his face, and he seemed deep in thought. "You're fixing that balcony, aren't you?" he asked after a pause.

"Yeah, Harrison's on it."

"And we just told Carrie and Davis to stay put, so they shouldn't be in any immediate danger…"

"Which leaves accident-prone Jensen," she checked her watch. "And speaking of him, I better go. Call me if anything happens, all right? Let's try to figure this thing out today. I'm getting sick of the rewinds. Plus," she yawned. "How long has it been? Fifty, sixty hours? I _need_ to get some sleep."

"Definitely not debating that point," he smiled, watching her turn and run off in the direction of the university. "I'll just… stay here, then."

She had taken only a few steps before she stopped and turned back. "Listen," she said slowly. "Maybe… maybe it'd be easier if we just stick together today."

"My thoughts exactly," he grinned, sauntering forward as though this had been his plan all along.

"But I swear," she narrowed her eyes, "if you try any funny business…"

"_Funny business_, Tru?" he raised an eyebrow. "I'm sure I don't know what you mean."

"You do, too," she whacked him on the arm as they started walking again. "I'm serious, okay? If you try to 'put his death back on track' or whatever, this partnership is _over_."

"And just when we're getting to be such good friends."

She sneaked another pondering glance at him, her expression softening. But before she could say anything else, he added, "I don't _need_ to do anything. You know he's gonna die anyway."

She shot him an extremely dirty look, which only made him laugh out loud. The morning light, showering through trees on the sidewalk, scattered dappled silver over them as they walked off, shoulder to shoulder.

**-----**

"So," said Davis, fidgeting as he swivelled around in his computer chair.

"So," Carrie echoed from her seat on the couch. They shared a brief, uncomfortable look before glancing away again.

"You're… you've been working for Jack?" he finally murmured. "You're his _sister_?"

"Half-sister, actually. And… yeah."

"So… so all the dates and stuff… you and me… that was all… acting?"

"You heard what they said," she said, a blush beginning to crawl up her cheek. "I… it's not that simple anymore."

He was silent for a long moment. Meanwhile, she looked around the room, at anywhere but him, nibbling nervously on her lower lip.

"You…" he finally said, swallowing. "You _died _trying to save me?"

She looked taken aback. "Apparently."

"Wow," he said softly. "That… is… I mean… wow."

"I know it sounds like a bad romantic comedy or something," she said, gazing down at her hands. "But the truth is that… yeah, well, I _did _end up having…" the tips of her ears grew red, "… feelings… for you."

He swallowed again. "Since when?"

She shrugged uncomfortably. "Well, last week, I guess. When you showed up after the guy who was supposed to be Santa couldn't… you know. That… that was really sweet, Davis. The presents…"

"Oh god," he pressed a hand to his forehead. "That reminds me, I still have to business expense that bone saw."

She couldn't help a small chuckle. He glanced at her, looking surprised. "Did I just make a joke?"

"I think so," she said, getting to her feet.

"What… what are you doing?" he asked, looking alarmed as he watched her approach.

She didn't answer as she leaned over and kissed him softly.

"Um," he said as she pulled back, blinking. "Um… wow. Um, thank you."

She couldn't help a grin at that. "You're welcome?"

He shook his head, looking distinctly embarrassed. "I didn't mean… um, I didn't mean to _thank you_, uh… I mean, it was good, but, not like the other time _wasn't_ good. I mean, it was more than good. It was…"

"Davis," she placed a hand on his arm, smiling. "It's okay."

"I talk too much," he mumbled, not meeting her eyes. "I know. I get nervous and then I start talking and…"

"I know," she said softly. "I like it. It's cute."

Seeing a hint of disbelief cross his eyes when he glanced up, she added, "And believe me, I'm not saying this to… try to regain your trust or whatever. I know this whole Jack thing screwed a lot of things up and maybe you won't ever trust me again, but… I _do_ like you. It's up to you whether you want to believe it."

He watched her for another moment, his brows slightly furrowed. "How do you feel about brunch?" he asked, apropos of nothing.

She blinked. "What?"

"Want to get something to eat?" he asked as he got to his feet. "I'm kind of hungry after everything this morning. Aren't you?"

A small smile broke over her face. "Yeah, I guess I am."

"Good," he said as they headed out the door. "I know this place nearby, they make these great lobster puffs."

"Lobster?" her voice grew fainter as they disappeared down the hall. "But I'm allergic to shellfish…"

**-----**

"Hey," said Jensen as Tru and Jack approached his café table, his welcoming expression quickly changing to one of suspicious confusion. "Jack? What are you doing here?"

"It's nice to see you too, Jensen," said Jack, pulling up a chair.

"Jack's, uh," Tru said quickly, "I sort of invited him along for the day. So you guys could get to know each other. You don't mind, do you?"

"Uh, no," said Jensen, looking as though he were forcing a smile. "No, that's fine."

"I'll go get us some coffee," Jack said. "Tru, I suppose you'll be wanting something large and strong and black?"

"Thanks," she said gratefully as she sat down. "Two sugars."

"Jensen?"

The other man shook his head. "I'm fine, thanks."

With a smile in Tru's direction, Jack headed to the counter. As soon as he was out of earshot, Jensen leaned in across the table, looking irritated. "Why is he here?" he asked in a low voice. "I thought it was just gonna be you and me today."

"Give him a break," she said. "I know you two didn't exactly start off on the right foot, but it's New Year's Eve, Jensen; he hasn't got anywhere else to go."

"Do the holidays always make you this charitable?"

She shot him an annoyed look. "I'm not being _charitable_. Jack's - "

"Your friend," he sighed. "Yeah, I know. Sorry. I just - "

"Jack's not my…" she trailed off, glancing thoughtfully at the other man as he placed his coffee order. "Well, maybe he is. I dunno. Everything's weird right now."

Just then, he turned as though he felt her gaze on him, and as their eyes met he smiled again, in the wry, calculating manner that she knew so well and had grown to loathe on more than one occasion. But today, she found herself smiling back.

Unnoticed, Jensen watched this whole exchange, his eyes darkening as his gaze travelled from Tru, to Jack, and back to Tru again. "Hey," he said, placing a hand over hers to capture her attention, "I woke up this morning with the weirdest feeling. It was like this… _humming_… all over my skin, and under it, too. It was intense… and kinda painful. Like all my nerves were getting fried."

She turned back to him, suddenly alert. "Yeah?"

"All the hairs up and down my arm were standing on end," he grinned self-consciously. "It seemed like I was getting electrocuted or something. It was bizarre."

Jack, having just come back to hear the tail-end of the description, gave Tru a significant look as he set the coffees down. "Sounds like you had quite a dream."

"Yeah," Jensen nodded as his hold tightened on Tru's hand, whether purposefully or not. Jack noticed, and he smiled again, looking away.

**-----**

"Hey guys!" Avery greeted her friends from the clinic counter. "Happy New Year! … almost."

For a moment Tru was taken aback as she recalled their previous encounters on this day, and the fact that Avery, unprompted, seemed to have said something different in greeting. But she shook off the uneasy feeling and leaned over the counter for a hug. "Happy New Year, Avery. Hey Tyler. Have you guys met Jack?"

"Yeah, sure," Avery grinned. "We met at your Christmas do last week. So what are you guys doing here?"

"Just dropping by to see my favourite doctor in the clinic," Tru said tentatively, wondering if the conversation would get back on track.

"Watch the sweet talk," Jensen said, laughing. "I might get jealous."

"You will never have what Tru and I have," Avery winked. "Ours is a _fated_ love."

"If I can't have it," he raised an eyebrow. "Can I at least _watch _this fated love?"

"_Men_," Avery and Tru said in unison, shaking their heads and rolling their eyes as Tyler and Jensen shared a high-five. Jack merely smiled, standing to one side, looking slightly aloof.

"Anyway, what are our plans tonight?" Jensen asked. "Tru, you said something about your brother throwing a party - "

"Yeah," she said with a nervous laugh. "That's not… uh, really happening. You know Harrison, not exactly the most prepared guy in the world. He's still doing some remodelling at his new place."

"Bummer," said Avery, glancing at Tyler. "We were kinda counting on that for our New Year's festivities. Tyler was lusting over those cheese cubes your brother ordered back at your birthday."

"That's kinda lame, Tyler," said Jensen, grinning.

"Dude, you didn't even stay at the party," Tyler said with a quirk of the brow. "Don't knock it until you try it."

"We can always meet at my place," Tru laughed. "In fact, me and Jack and Jensen are gonna head over right now. Maybe we could just hang tonight, you know? Drinks, chips and dips, I'll see if Harrison can swing by with the cheese. What do you say?"

"Sounds good," said Jensen, smiling. He took a step forward, "Hey Av-_ow_!"

"What's wrong?" demanded Avery, rushing forward to stop him from falling. Tru, on the other hand, glanced back at Jack. He gave her a look that plainly said _I told you so _before he assumed an appropriately surprised-and-concerned expression.

"It's my leg," muttered Jensen, pressing a hand to his right calf. "Wow, that's really weird…"

"Let's get you checked out," said Avery worriedly. "I'm on a break right now. Come through to the spare exam room."

"No, it's fine," he muttered. "I must've just had a cramp or something…"

"Come _on_," she gave an insistent tug on his arm. "It didn't sound like just a cramp. It'll take, like, _one_ second…"

"I better follow them," Tru said to Jack as she watched Avery drag Jensen down the hall. "You okay staying here for five minutes?"

"For you? I can do _ten_," his voice was light.

"Very funny," she gave him an exasperated look. "I'll be right back."

She hurried off behind her friends, leaving him standing out in reception, looking wan and thoughtful.

**-----**

"I'll put everything down for Four Leaf Clover coming in first, thanks," said Harrison as he strutted up to the ticketing counter. "Race four. Yeah, I've got a good feeling about this one."

**-----**

"Well, everything seems fine," said Avery, furrowing her brows as she watched Jensen roll down his pants leg. "No muscle strain, no cuts and bruises. You said it was like a stabbing sort of pain?"

"Yeah, like something's been rammed through it," he said. "But just for a second. I know it sounds weird."

"What do you think, Tru?"

Tru knew that she should have expected the symmetry of the situation from previous days. But as she stood there, watching Jensen and Avery have the exact same conversation as from the first rewind, she couldn't help feeling the small chill crawling through her bloodstream, the one that she'd also felt earlier, growing more and more persistent with each rewind, like slow-acting poison.

"Tru?" Avery asked again, raising an eyebrow.

"Huh?" Tru snapped out of her reverie. "Sorry, what?"

"I hope you were deep in thought about what possible medical explanation one could give for this mysterious stabbing pain?"

Tru laughed weakly. "No brilliant medical explanation, sorry."

"Well," said Avery, turning back to Jensen. "Pick up a prescription for painkillers if you want. But I guess it's just some involuntary muscle spasm. Give it a few more days and…"

"Come back if the pain persists, yada yada, I know the drill," he grinned just as Tru's cell phone started to ring.

"Excuse me, you guys," she said, flipping open the phone and walking to one side. "Tru speaking."

"What's the _hell _is going on, Tru?"

"Harrison? What's wrong? Calm down."

"_Calm down_? You're telling me to _calm down_? I just lost _all_ the money I have in the _world_ on the horse that YOU told me would _WIN_! But guess what? _IT DIDN'T_!"

"What?" she demanded. "But that's impossible! Are you sure you bet on the right one?"

"Four Leaf Clover, race four at noon, everything that you told me! That horse didn't even place!"

"This is bad. I've gotta talk to Jack," she muttered, striding out of the examination room and leaving Jensen and Avery staring after her.

"What's the deal with this Jack guy, anyway?" asked Avery carefully.

"I have no idea," Jensen said, his voice glum. "They have this… weird dynamic. Before today, I got the feeling that she only put up with him for one reason or another; but today, I dunno…" he shrugged. "They definitely have a history."

"Don't they all?" she sighed, patting him on the shoulder sympathetically.

**-----**

"I don't care _how_ you get the money," Tru demanded into the phone as she strode out into reception. "Just… fix the balcony, okay? It's really important. I'm sorry about the horse, I really am; I have no idea why it turned out differently today. But go, okay? We need to get that railing fixed – that's where all the trouble started."

Jack was still standing where she'd left him ten minutes ago. She ran up to him, turning off the phone. "Something's wrong," she said. "The horse that won at the tracks yesterday? It didn't even place today."

He furrowed his brows. "How is that possible?"

"I don't know!" she exclaimed, grabbing him by the arm and dragging him out of the reception to avoid the curious stares of waiting patients. "Four Leaf Clover _always_ won the noon race! That's what happened in the last three days!"

"I remember," he said heavily. "I was there when it won the first time."

"So?" she looked at him imploringly. "What does this mean?"

"Events are changing," he said slowly, looking lost in thought. "We can't count on things to stay the same anymore."

"And what does _that_ mean?" she demanded, her hold on his arm tightening. "Jack, talk to me!"

He turned suddenly, his eyes boring into hers with a degree of severity she had rarely seen in all their time together. "Don't you understand, Tru?" he said, his voice low and urgent. "Our jobs deal with people's destinies. Not just theirs, but those of everyone around them. It's a domino effect – every act that you commit will inevitably have far-reaching consequences. Setting aside the whole issue of your calling, this rewind day is starting to unravel all by itself. Events are spinning out of balance; things that used to be certainties aren't certain anymore. Now what does that suggest to you?"

"That we have to stop it, and fast," she said gravely.

"Right," he said, his gaze still fixed on hers. "Tru, I'm not going to say to you what I've said already, because I know it'll be a waste of my breath and your time. But… just keep in mind what has happened over the past three days, okay? _Think _about the connections between them."

She stared at him, fully aware of what he wasn't saying. But she had nothing with which to reply. Blinking, she looked away; the sun was still high in the sky, dispersing patches of light across the grounds like fragments of glass.

He watched her silently, his eyes bleached to pale ice-blue by the silver light.

"Jack?" she murmured.

"I'm here."

"When is this going to stop?"

He didn't answer, and she didn't look his way. A moment later she felt him reach out, and his hand brushed against her cheek.

She closed her eyes, swallowing with difficulty. The sun left delicate red-gold imprints on the back of her eyelids, and in the silence she could feel the beating of her own heart, the shallow blood-pulse in the tips of her fingers and at the base of her throat. His fingers felt dry and warm against her skin, a gentle caress, speaking of understanding, and sympathy, and above all, comfort.

"Don't give up," he said softly. "I've seen you when you do these things. You always figure it out. You always know what to do in the end."

"Except when you get in my way," she said, opening her eyes with a disconsolate smile.

"Even then," he looked away with a small shrug, his hand falling to his side. "Even then you amaze me."

She stared at him, her lips parting slightly, whether out of surprise or incredulity. He wasn't looking at her, however; he was gazing into the unseen distance, his head slightly tilted back, his brows set in a deep furrow. Suddenly she felt all at once the burdens that were heaped upon them, not only hers but his as well, the duties and the expectations of some unseen, unbidden higher will, bending the invisible paths that stretched out in front of each and every person in this world. It was a terrifying thing, made only bearable by the fact that he was standing there beside her, and that she knew that he, too, knew no more than she did.

"Jack," she began to say, touching him gingerly on the arm, but faltered when she saw Jensen walk out of the clinic, his expression stormy. "Hey," she said, "Jensen…?"

He didn't respond. Instead he charged up to them and, without another word, shoved Jack hard in the chest.

Jack staggered back, looking simultaneously surprised and, as was his wont, slightly amused. "Whoa, big guy," he said, "a little hostile here."

"Don't you act like that with me," said Jensen through gritted teeth.

"What the hell are you doing, Jensen?" Tru exclaimed, grabbing his arm.

"I don't need to take this," he retorted, his eyes blazing. "You understand? I don't _need_ to take this. Life's too short to be playing games! You two wannna sneak around behind my back and pretend nothing's wrong? Go straight ahead! Just don't expect me to wait around."

"Jensen, what?" she cried, chasing after him as he shook off her hand and strode away from the clinic. "Jack and I aren't… we weren't doing anything - "

"I can see it in your eyes, Tru!" he shouted, swirling around. "You two have a history that I don't know about, that's fine; you run off to talk to him when you're upset, I can deal with that; but I _can't_ stand being lied to! You know how we talked about priorities earlier? Well, you've got to sort out _yours_. Either you want to be with me or you don't - "

"I _do _want to be with you!" she cried desperately.

"Then why don't I believe you?" he answered after a pause, his voice plaintive.

She stared at him, her mouth suddenly dry. "I…" she whispered. "I don't know."

"That's what I thought," he said quietly, before he turned and walked away.

She watched his retreating figure, for a moment not quite comprehending what had happened until Jack sauntered up beside her and said mildly, "I suppose you're gonna make that my fault, too?"

"No," she said softly as they watched Jensen walk down the street, not looking back. "I don't know what that was."

He nodded and said no more. They were still watching when Jensen, his figure growing smaller and smaller, walked beneath a building that was encased with scaffolding. They were still watching when one single brick, seemingly carelessly mishandled by the construction workers, fell from several storeys above. It caught Jensen squarely on the temple. Immediately, he crumpled to the ground.

"Oh my god," exclaimed Tru, clamping a hand to her mouth, "what the… oh my god…"

She did not miss Jack's quiet voice behind her as she began to run.

"You still think he can be saved?"

**-----**

Tru couldn't count the number of hours she had spent here on this day that refused to end, or how long since she last had a decent sleep. When she found herself in the morgue once again, with Jensen's body laid out in front of her, she had to lean all her weight onto the table, her fingers digging into the cold metal as though that was the only way she could keep herself upright. She stared down at his face, and with a shaking hand drew the sheet over it.

Jack, who had again encased himself in the shadows at one corner of the room, watched and said nothing.

"Tru, I'm so sorry," Davis said quietly, with Carrie standing beside him. "I know - "

"You don't need to say anything, Davis," she said with bone-weary calm, not looking at him. "You said it all in the last three rewinds. I know exactly how you feel about all this, and I promise I'll respect your opinion when it matters. But for now… please, just leave me alone. I still have a job to do."

Davis glanced at Carrie, who in turn looked at Jack imploringly. He, expressionless, gave a brief nod before turning his eyes back on Tru.

Taking Davis by the arm, Carrie slowly guided him out of the room. "Come on," she whispered. "Let's just give her some space…"

Silence pressed down as the doors shut behind them. Tru bowed her head over Jensen's body, her dark hair falling into severe contrast with the snow-white sheet. She could feel Jack watching her from where he stood, alert but resigned, as though he was waiting for something and, at the same time, nothing at all.

"I can't do this anymore," she whispered, not looking at him. "Everything has stopped making sense, and no matter what I do or how hard I try, somebody always dies; it doesn't matter how many times I relive this day, I'm never gonna get it right."

He didn't reply, but he shifted a little, still looking at her intently, his eyes misty blue in the darkness.

"I just want it to stop," she murmured, and it seemed as though she no longer knew to whom she was speaking this at all; to Jack perhaps, or herself, or even Jensen's cold dead body lying there in front of her. She looked up and tears had again filled her eyes, but she bit down on her lip, trying not to let them escape.

"This is the third time he's died in four days." Her voice was very soft. "I can't keep going on like this… I just _can't_. I don't know what's happening or why, or how I'm ever going to stop it. Nothing makes sense. Nothing is right. And the world is going out of balance and I think I'm running out of time before everything goes to hell and I have no idea what to do…"

She was crying openly now, her body shaking with barely-suppressed sobs. He looked back, then, and their eyes met. The expression in hers was desolate, his painful.

"It's gonna be okay," he whispered as he stepped forward, into the white circle of light, gathering her into his arms. "I promise it'll be okay."

With a shuddering sigh she pressed her face into his shoulder. "You said that yesterday, too. And we're right back where we started - "

"We're not _exactly _where we started," he said and looked away, swallowing. "I think… I think maybe some things are starting to make sense."

There was a strange humming in her ears as he turned back and their eyes met once more. In his, she could see something dark and desperate, something that spoke much more than his words alone. For a moment time seemed to slow and it almost felt, to her, like the day was going to rewind again, but then the realisation hit like the floor had been wrenched from under her feet. This feeling, the sensation of electricity springing up in the pit of her stomach, the faint aching in her chest – it wasn't a rewind. It was _him_.

"Jack?" she whispered again, not knowing what she wanted him to say in reply.

He kissed her.

She remained immobile, too stunned to even contemplate moving; in that split second a thousand misgivings ran through her head and she was already seeing the repercussions of this, the consequences of it stretching out far and wide across their interlinked destinies. But a haze of static seemed to spring up in her mind and before she quite understood what she was doing she found herself already kissing him back, and it felt like a kind of salvation.

His lips were warm, and soft, which she didn't quite expect, though she didn't know how it could have been otherwise. As his mouth moved over hers she thought she could taste the life in him, hot and brilliant like a falling star, and it surprised and touched her in equal measures. He didn't seem like death, then; his kiss wasn't comprised of dust and ashes. He was just _Jack_, and as his hold on her waist tightened she drew up to him willingly, letting herself sink into his embrace.

She could feel him trembling as the kiss deepened, as though he was trying to convince her – and perhaps himself – that he was more than the sum of his actions over this past year. And also that perhaps he, like her, was capable of something better than this. She gave into the uncertainty, her hands trailing up the back of his neck to pull him closer, and she could feel him shudder when she traced the small scar behind his ear, the relic from times long past. She didn't quite feel like herself, here in this cold, empty room with those flickering fluorescent lights above, with his lips parting against hers and bringing with it a dizzying wave of euphoria and anguish alike. There was a painful hollow in her chest, and it felt like she was looking down from the edge of an abyss, like she was drifting upwards in an endless expanse of cerulean sky. It felt like she was splintering into fragments and coming back together again, all at once.

When they finally broke apart, they were both gasping for breath. It seemed as though, in giving in to this, they had given in to something much larger and more forceful than they could ever have expected. "Jack," she whispered, placing a hand over her throat, trying to slow her uneven breathing.

He stared at her, his chest rising and falling rapidly. "I…" he murmured, "I have to go. I need to…"

He didn't finish the sentence as he strode from the room, before she had the chance to say anything else. She could hear him breaking into a run as the door swung shut behind him.

**-----**

"See the bars down here?" said the handyman that Harrison had called, pointing. "All rusted away. A decent push would make the whole thing give. It's an accident waiting to happen."

"Yeah, yeah, I know," Harrison said irritably. "I just need a quote, man."

"Can't say for sure yet," the man bent down to have another look. "But… ball park figure, I'd say about between seven hundred and a thousand."

For a moment Harrison thought of calling Tru again, but upon reflection of her irritated voice earlier, he curbed the impulse. _I don't care how you get the money, _she had said, her tone cold and imperative, _just fix the balcony._

He sighed. It was clear what he had to do.

**-----**

Jack paused in front of Richard's office door, closing his eyes and taking a deep breath. He hadn't seen Richard since the man had threatened to shoot him a couple of rewinds ago, and while Richard obviously retained no memory of the event, Jack wasn't particularly prone to forgetting scenarios that involved guns being pointed at his head. But there were too many questions that had to be answered, and Richard was the only source remaining that hadn't already been exhausted. Jack glanced briefly at the window before he went in; it was starting to get dark again, the last of the sunlight fading from the western horizon, the colour of it like watered wine.

"A hypothetical scenario," he announced as he sauntered into Richard's office. "If a rewind day starts making you have doubts about what you're doing, what would you do?"

"Don't you ever knock?" Richard demanded, looking irritated as he got up from his desk to close the door.

Jack only shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest.

Returning to his seat, Richard contemplated him with furrowed brows. "What happened? Is this a rewind day?"

"No," lied Jack, hoping his poker face was sufficient. "Just wondering. You know, about the fact that none of us really know what's going on, or even where our powers come from. And that got me thinking - "

"Jack," Richard interrupted. "Your role is a simple one. It's the counterpart to Tru's. That's all it is."

"But how do you _know_ this?"

"It's the natural order of things, Jack," said Richard. "Yin and Yang, order and chaos, creation and destruction. She intervenes with fate, you restore the balance. You knew all this. Why the sudden doubt?"

Jack shrugged again. "Just _suppose _something – quite a few things – happened, that was enough to make you doubt whether you were doing the right…?"

He stopped suddenly. The realisation struck him much like, he thought, the way lightning would, sending a jolt from the top of his head straight to the bottoms of his feet, leaving a hum on his skin and a rapid beat to his heart. "Oh," he said. "_That's_ a purpose in itself."

Richard stared at him. "Excuse me?"

"Multiple rewind days have a purpose," Jack murmured under his breath, his mind reeling. "Something that you have to learn gradually, something that will lead you to the eventual conclusion…"

"Multiple…" Richard looked like he was straining to hear. "What the hell are you talking about, Jack?"

Jack looked up, then, his eyes very bright. He opened his mouth to speak, but Richard suddenly made a silencing motion and cut him off. "Hold on," the older man said, striding out from behind his desk and yanking the door open.

Harrison was standing in the doorway.

**-----**

Tru had spent many a night working alone at the morgue, with only corpses for company. Certainly she had her moments of paranoia and fear and loneliness, but as she sat there next to Jensen's body, she felt with certainty that whatever she felt before had nothing on this.

Her mind kept flashing back, despite her active resistance, to the kiss. The way Jack looked when she started crying in earnest, the desperately confused expression he wore as he stumbled away from her, the searching pressure of his lips on hers…

Hastily, she drew off the part of the sheet covering Jensen's face, in hopes of driving thoughts of Jack from her mind. It half worked. Jensen's calm, frigid countenance, with the dark red wound on his left temple, led her thoughts from the kiss to what Jack had said, earlier. _You still think he can be saved?_ He had asked, not spitefully but with an edge of weariness to his voice, a fearsome finality.

"But if death was your destiny," she whispered to Jensen's immobile face, "why are we still rewinding? What else am I supposed to learn from this?"

There was, of course, no answer. She shook her head, pressing her lips to his forehead, feeling as though she might start crying again.

"Tru."

She gasped and looked back at him, her eyes searching wildly over his features. But he remained as impassive as ever.

"Tru," said Davis, walking up from behind her. "It's me. Sorry to get your hopes up."

"It's okay," she could only manage a faint smile. "I've given up on him asking for help, anyway."

"Where's Jack?" he asked.

She turned away, hoping that he wouldn't see her expression. "He had to, uh, go check on something. I don't really know."

He nodded and pulled up another chair. "Things are so weird today."

"Tell me about it," she forced another small smile.

"Tru," he said, scratching his chin. "When you said earlier… about you knowing exactly how I feel about all this…"

"We've had several conversations, Davis. I think you made your point pretty clear."

"Oh," he said, and after a pause asked, "have you, you know, figured out what's triggering these multiple rewinds?"

She shook her head mutely, still staring down at Jensen's face.

"Cos I was thinking," he said slowly. "It might not be just _you_. Maybe it's Jack. Maybe fate wants _him_ to figure something out."

"I haven't thought of that," she murmured, lifting her head.

"Well, it's just a thought," he stood up and patted her on the shoulder. "You sure you don't want something to eat or to lie down for a while…?"

"I'm fine, Davis," she shook her head. "I think I'll stay here a little longer."

"Okay. I'll be up in Carrie's office if you need me."

After his footsteps have died away, she turned back to Jensen. Carefully, almost as though she were afraid to disturb his slumber, she placed one hand against his cheek.

He was cold, and a little stiff to the touch. She flinched at the feel of it, because again she was forcefully reminded of Jack, the way he shuddered when her fingers traced the bullet scar on the back of his neck. It seemed like a sign of weakness, something that she didn't think him capable of, once upon a time.

"I'm sorry," she whispered to Jensen, not knowing why she was saying this at all. "I'm sorry I couldn't save you, and I'm sorry I still can't save you, and I'm sorry… sorry for other things as well…"

She didn't think she had any more tears to cry, but apparently she was wrong. As she lowered her head onto his cold chest and began to sob out loud, she thought she could feel something breaking inside of her. Perhaps it was her heart. She didn't think so, however. Perhaps it was something much more complicated than that.

**-----**

"This isn't what you think, Harrison," Richard said, staring.

"Oh god," Harrison murmured, pressing a hand to his mouth. "Dad, you… you and _Jack_. I gotta find Tru, I gotta - "

"No!" exclaimed Richard, taking a step forward. "Just let me explain!"

"There's nothing to explain!" yelled Harrison, his eyes darting wildly to Jack. "I heard what you were saying! I heard everything! You two have been in this together since… god, I don't know when, but… oh, god… I've got to tell Tru…"

"_Harrison_!" Richard exclaimed, desperately. "You can't!"

"You can't stop me, dad," wailed Harrison, turning away and stumbling toward the stairwell, "I have to…"

"HARRISON!" Richard yelled, running after his son, shoving Jack aside in his haste. "_HARRISON_!"

For a moment Jack stood there, too stunned to move. But his senses quickly flooded back and he ran after the others, with no idea what he was to do when he got there. He paused on the stairwell, seeing Richard catch up to Harrison on the level below, and with a violent blow he struck Harrison's cell phone from his hands, pushing his son up against the wall.

Jack sucked in a breath. The scene seemed familiar. In fact, he realised with a pang, it seemed an exact reconstruction of what had happened only a week ago at his old apartment, where Harrison saw them together for the first time. "_You have no idea what you are dealing with!"_ exclaimed Richard as he grasped Harrison by the shirt collar, the force of it almost wrenching the younger man's feet off the ground.

Jack swallowed as he gripped the banister; Richard had said that exact same thing, too, a week ago. He didn't know why this scene was playing out verbatim here and now, but he was sure it had a purpose. All things had a purpose. They _must_.

"Let me go!" Harrison exclaimed. "What am I dealing with?"

"I want to be honest to you, son; and I want you to know what is at stake here," hissed Richard, his steel-grey eyes burning into a focus. "But you gotta promise me one thing."

"What? What is that, huh?"

"You will _not_ mention to Tru what I'm about to discuss with you - "

"It'll be a cold day in hell before I promise you that," Harrison said through gritted teeth.

"I am so sorry to hear that," Richard said after a pause, and his grip tightened.

Jack could see Harrison starting to gag, a violent surge of red flooding across his face. He almost turned away at that point; he knew what was to come: Richard would choke Harrison to the point of collapse, and then he would let go and Harrison would get away and tell Tru everything, and perhaps this time, finally, everything will be answered. He was surprised at the weight of the relief that crashed over him, like a tidal wave. Perhaps it was for the best, now, that she found out the part Richard played in all this.

He was so taken up by his reverie that it took him a few moments to realise that no sound was coming from the level below. "Richard?" he called as he ran down the stairs, "Harrison?"

He came to an abrupt stop. Richard was standing in the exact same position as before, but Harrison was lying at his feet. And he wasn't moving.

"What…?" murmured Jack, his throat suddenly dry.

"I… I didn't mean to," whispered Richard, staring down at Harrison's motionless body.

"He's dead?" asked Jack disbelievingly as he crouched down beside the other man. He searched for a pulse; there was none.

"My… my son…" Richard whispered. "Oh god, Harrison…"

"It wasn't supposed to be this way," muttered Jack, staring at Harrison's lifeless face. "It wasn't supposed to happen like this…"

A chill crept down his back as he recalled the earlier incident with the track bet. "Everything's falling apart," he muttered, trying to calm his rapid breathing as he took out his phone and began to dial Tru's number. "Everything's going wrong…"

"_Jack."_

"What?" he glanced over his shoulder. Richard just stared at him blankly.

"_Jack_."

Slowly, and with a sense of foreboding, Jack turned toward Harrison's body.

The other man's eyes were wide open.

"_Help her."_

Usually Jack's rewinds were abrupt and electric, with no forewarning and an overwhelming cold that numbed his senses. But this time, warmth flooded through his body as his vision swam out of focus; it was an unfamiliar feeling, one that he had experienced only once before.

**-----**

Tru sat up straight in her bed, fighting for breath and feeling as though she might throw up. "Oh my god," she managed to choke out, wiping cold sweat from her brow.

The rewind she just had was different to all the others, bar one. There were flashbacks this time, clear ones, of horses racing on a track and a man in overalls nudging Harrison's balcony railing with a toe. There were images, also, of a door being jerked open to reveal her father standing behind it, and Jack behind _him_; of her father looming up close, the feeling of constriction in her throat as she struggled to get oxygen into her lungs, and the look in Richard's cold grey eyes as she sank, slowly, toward the ground. And then there was nothing.

"What did you _do_, dad?" she murmured, leaping out of bed.

It was the morning of New Year's Eve, for the fifth time.

**-----**

"We need to talk," Jack exclaimed as he barged into Richard's office.

"Do you ever knock?" Richard asked irritably, looking up from his desk.

"Here's the deal," said Jack, ignoring the other man. "Tru and I are on a multiple rewind loop. We've woken up this morning on five separate occasions and every time someone different dies. Except Jensen – he seems to croak on a pretty frequent basis. The first time, _you_ died. And you asked for help from Tru. And last night? You killed Harrison, and he asked for _my _help. Why? I have absolutely no idea. I _know _we're supposed to be looking for some sort of purpose to this whole thing, and Tru and I have been trying to work this out non-stop for the past I-don't-know-how-many hours. But I think I figured it out, finally, last night, before I rewound. It's the only thing I can think of that makes sense."

Richard had gotten up from his desk and closed the door behind Jack, listening intently to the entire tirade. Now he met the other man's eyes. "What?"

Jack set his jaw. "I wanna quit."

"I'm afraid that's not an option," Richard replied crisply.

"I can't do this _job_ anymore, Richard!" Jack exclaimed. "Things have happened in the past four days, things that I never thought could happen, and now I'm seriously starting to doubt if I'm supposed to be doing the things that you told me I'm supposed to do!"

"Things like _what_, exactly?" Richard demanded. "Don't question your calling, Jack, everything's cut and dried; there's no room for doubt."

"Why not?" Jack retorted, his eyes flashing. "No one knows what they're supposed to be doing, do they? Fate… what does it want? _What is it?_ Things are being thrown out of balance, the laws of causality are changing right in front of our eyes and nothing makes any sense anymore!"

"You know exactly who you are," Richard said grimly. "You are the opposite of what Tru is. You restore the balance to things. You keep fate in line."

"But _how do you know that_?" Jack demanded, his fists clenching at his sides. "Who told you this? How can you be sure this is what I'm supposed to be doing? Why do _I _have to be the one that keeps her from saving people's lives? I never asked for it - "

"Neither did I," interrupted Richard, his voice sombre. "This is just how it is, Jack. None of us asked for it to happen and none of us got told why."

"So how do you _know_ what we're doing is right?" Jack yelled, losing his composure. "God, Richard! I don't want to do this anymore! I never wanted any of it!"

"When I found you," Richard said slowly, staring at him, "you were a mess. You didn't know how or why you were starting to relive days, with visions that made no sense at all. You thanked me when I set you on the right track. You said you understood what you needed to do."

"I know," said Jack, his face very white.

"I gave you a purpose, Jack. Your powers _mean_ something now. You are something instead of nothing."

Jack stared at Richard. He didn't know it, but his eyes were wide, very blue under the pale sun, and from them a desperate light shone, as though he were burning up from within.

"Jack," Richard said, beginning to look unnerved.

"Maybe I'd rather be nothing than _this_," Jack said, jerking his gaze away.

Richard stared at him. "Is something going on between you and my daughter?" he demanded suddenly, seemingly apropos of nothing.

Jack turned sharply. "Why do you say that?"

"Because I know that expression on your face, Jack," Richard said quietly. "I remember it well. It was the exact same expression I wore when I realised I was falling in love with Tru's mother."

Jack blanched. "I'm not…" he began weakly.

"Don't interrupt me," Richard said. "I know that look. I know how it feels. Now I understand where you're coming from. Why do you think I married her even though I knew what she was? Elise was an amazing woman, and when I look at Tru these days it's like looking into a time warp - "

"I…" Jack said, but he faltered, dropping his gaze.

"I guess on some levels, only a person who understood what she was going through could bear her… habits," Richard said slowly. "I understood. I also understood what she had to accomplish, the heart and soul that had to go into it, the planning, the constant changes and the mental anguish of having lost another round. I understood all that, and I loved her for it. That's why I married her."

Despite his better instincts, Jack couldn't help looking back up.

"I knew everything about her," Richard said, his voice hollow with nostalgia. "She, on the other hand, knew nothing about me. Perhaps it was for the best. It would have only broken her heart to find out what I was doing behind her back all that time, undoing the tasks she tried so hard to accomplish, returning the people she saved to their rightful destinies. I loved her. I didn't want to see her suffer from knowing all this."

Jack could feel a wistful smile floating to his lips. "This coming from a man who ordered a hit on her only a few years later."

"It's a different issue, Jack. I don't expect you to understand. I married her for love; I killed her for my own sanity."

"But _why_ did you have to kill her?"

"Jack," Richard fixed him with an incredulous stare. "You're a smart man. How could you not have figured this out by now?"

"By all means, enlighten me."

"You can't _quit_ from this," Richard said, and his gaze had turned bright and brittle, like splintered glass. "You two will be locked into this fight until it kills one of you. Haven't you gotten enough clues by now? You and Tru are joined, Jack; just like Elise and me. Your fates are intertwined, as they always have been. You're two halves of a larger whole, nemeses, soulmates, whatever you want to call it, however you want to spin the facts. As long as her powers remain, so do yours; and it works the other way, too. _That'_s why I said you can't quit from this. Neither of you will ever be able to walk away unless the other one dies."

Jack stared at Richard, speechless.

"I had to quit, Jack," Richard said, turning away. "It was too much. I couldn't carry on doing what I did any longer. But I didn't want to die. So…" he trailed off, shaking his head.

The door swung inward at that moment. Jack and Richard turned sharply, the latter drawing in a quick breath.

Tru stood in the doorway, her face streaked with tears.

"So you killed mom?" she asked softly.


	6. Part Six & Epilogue

**Part Six**

Tru was only faintly aware of the fact that she was crying. She stared at her father as she walked toward him, her feet sinking into the plush carpet with every step. "You killed mom?" she asked again. "You… _you_ were the one who paid that guy to… to…"

"Now look, Tru," Richard said desperately, backing up, "don't do anything rash…"

"_Me_, do anything rash?" she heard her own bitter laughter, and some part of her felt surprised that she could even laugh at a time like this. Her gaze travelled past Jack, faintly registering the expression on his face, a mixture of sadness and shame and a thousand other things, but she could not focus on him. "How can you just stand there?" she asked Richard, her voice shaking. "How can you just… _tell _me what to do? After what you've done? How _can_ you?"

"You heard everything?" he asked gravely. He had backed behind his desk now, his hands clutching the edges of the solid mahogany so tightly that it bit into his palm.

"_Everything_," she affirmed. "And all this time I was standing outside that door, thinking I must be dreaming… but I'm not, am I? _You_ really killed mom…"

"I know what I say isn't going to make the slightest bit of difference," he began, staring at her, "but - "

"But _nothing_!" she exclaimed, her voice breaking. "You're right, there _is_ nothing you could say! I know everything now, I understand everything, and I _hate_ you for it. I hate you for doing this to us. I hate you for not being strong enough to just… walk away from this stupid calling without feeling like you have to kill your own _wife_..."

She looked away, then. There were shining tear tracks across her cheeks. "Why did you do that, dad?" she whispered. "Or was it so common to you to just… take lives that you didn't even think about the damage it caused? Was she just another _job_ to you? Something you had to take care of? God, I wish I never had this stupid calling, I wish I could just be someone normal from a normal family, instead of _this_ family – we're all cursed, aren't we? I…" she buried her face in her hands, breaking down in sobs.

"Tru - " Jack said softly, advancing toward her.

"_Don't_," she cried vehemently, flinching away. "I don't know anything anymore, okay? I don't know what to do or how to deal and… I just want it all to go away…"

"Tru," Richard said, his eyes filled with anguish. "I'm sorry."

"And you think _sorry _is going to be enough?" she demanded, lifting her head angrily. "You think _sorry_ is going to cover for all this?"

"No, I'm sorry for _this_," he said as he withdrew a gun from behind the desk, and pointed it at her.

It was the same pistol he had used to threaten Jack earlier. That could have been entire lifetimes ago.

For a moment the air inside the room seemed to solidify, and the three of them stood there, a tableau, lit by the weak sunlight of the New York morning, streaming through the windows like quicksilver.

"_Richard_," Jack said, taking a step forward. "_Don't_."

"You stay right where you are, Jack," said the other man, his eyes still trained on Tru. "I didn't want to do this," he said quietly. "I never wanted it, sweetheart; you have to believe me. But… I can't let you win this time. I just… I just can't."

She had stopped crying. In the crystalline morning light she looked back at him, her features picked out with silver, her eyes lightened to amber-green.

"You know," she said, her voice very soft. "You killed Harrison yesterday. I guess I shouldn't be surprised by now."

Richard's hand shook very slightly. He swallowed, but said nothing.

"What are you going to do, daddy?" she whispered. "You gonna kill me, too?"

For a moment she stared down the black, fathomless barrel of the gun. And then her focus shifted, and she could see now, very clearly, how lined his face really was. She could see the silver swathes in his greying hair and the bruise-blue shadows under his eyes. The eyes themselves were blank, like pieces of slate, and she gazed into them, trying to discern any emotion at all. But his expression was closed, foreign; for a moment she felt as though she had never known him.

"No," he said, his voice very steady. "I'm not going to kill you."

And then he shot Jack in the heart.

**-----**

She had felt like she was moving in slow motion, as though she were immersed in water. She fell to her knees beside him, and for a second she had a brief, vivid flash of the night when Luc passed away. The bullet wound was the same: a spreading crimson pool, too much, the smell of it, metallic and dense. The shock was the same also: numb terror, an emptiness in the pit of her stomach, reaching upward slowly until it touched her heart and turned it into dry ice.

But Luc had looked up at her and he had spoken to her, and she was able to tell him about the things that mattered. She was able, in one form or another, to say her goodbyes.

Jack's eyes were open, and in them she thought she could see the familiar amusement, the sardonic glint that seemed to be perpetually knowing and self-deprecating at the same time. But he was dead. He was dead before he'd even hit the ground.

"You said you wanted this to be over," said Richard, wiping the gun with his handkerchief.

"I don't understand," she whispered.

"It's over now, sweetheart," he said. "Everything, I mean. With his death, your powers are gone."

She heard the words but could not comprehend them. She only stared up blankly, and she could also hear her own voice, faint and hollow, as though it was transmitted from very far away. "What?"

"You heard what I said earlier, right? It's not over until one of you dies. And now you are free. From this _curse _or whatever you want to call it."

"My powers," she murmured, "they…"

"They are gone," he repeated, though not unkindly. "He won't ask for your help, and you won't have this day to do over. No one will ask for your help ever again. He's gone, and with him your calling, too."

"But… _why_? Why did you…"

"It seemed preferable to killing my own daughter," he said, matter-of-factly. "And Jack - maybe he wasn't the right person for the job, after all. He questioned too much; he fell in love with you. Maybe it was better to let him go and hope the next person in line would have more sense."

"He wasn't in love with me," she said, and her throat felt raw and parched, as though it had been scrubbed with sandpaper.

"Maybe not now," he said. "But he will be. Remember I've seen it all happen before, Tru; it happened to _me_ once upon a time. I know how it goes."

She looked back at Jack's open eyes, and closed them with a shaking hand.

"But _now_," Richard had started to walk past her, heading for the door. "Things will be different now."

"So what was the purpose to this?" she asked, and she didn't know whether she was asking her father or herself or even Jack, whose skin was still warm to the touch. She could feel another tear making its way down her cheek. "Was there even a point to all of it?"

Richard paused at the door. Had she been looking at him, she would have seen a vast sadness and emptiness in his eyes. But she was only looking at Jack, trying to swallow the sudden aching that welled up in the back of her throat.

"Destiny is a strange thing," Richard said, meditatively. "You don't know why it does what it does, and you don't know where it leads you. All you can do is make the best of things, and try not to screw up too badly. You think you knew what your calling was all about, Tru? You know nothing."

She exhaled slowly, looking up from Jack's face. But she did not turn around to meet her father's eyes.

"None of us know why the fates have chosen us to do what we do," he continued, the sound of his voice grave and contemplative. "None of us know whether the consequences are going to catch up with us one day. Fate tells you all you need to know in the days and the hours that you live through, and _you_ have to be the one to figure it out. It's the same whether or not you have the power to redo things. In the end, it's still what _we_ do that matters. It goes far beyond the simple notions of right and wrong, good and evil."

"And what about you?" she asked, still not looking at him. "You killed mom. You killed Jack. You - "

"Don't you get it, Tru?" he interrupted, and for a moment he sounded very old. "I do what I have to do. Just like everybody else."

"But Jack…" she murmured, her eyes glazing over.

"I suggest that you get away from here as fast as possible," he said. "Don't let anybody have the opportunity to place you here at this time. As for me, I will have an alibi. An airtight one, they are not hard to come by these days. The gun will be destroyed. I wouldn't advise that you try to implicate me in this. It wouldn't end well for you."

She looked back at him. He held her gaze, and was expressionless.

"Have some peace, daughter," he said finally. "Now that he's dead, your powers have gone with him. You can live a normal life now. Isn't that… what you wanted?"

He waited, and when she didn't say anything, turned to go.

"I swear," she said quietly, watching him walk away. "I swear on my mother's grave that one day, you are going to pay for what you've done."

He stopped but did not turn around. Then, he gave a slight nod of the head, and walked out.

She could hear his footsteps echoing down the stairwell until the sound faded away altogether. And then, finally, there was only silence.

"Jack," she whispered, touching his cheek. He didn't move.

"Ask me," she murmured. "Please… just ask."

He lay quiet and still, his skin pale and translucent, his lips also; it was as though all the colour he ever had in him had drained out into the spreading pool of blood staining his shirtfront, like a scarlet blossom placed over his heart.

"This is not the end," she whispered, leaning close to him so that her breath stirred his hair. "_You_ told me that, twice now. You said so. And I trust you, too. So ask me, please. Tell me it's gonna be all right."

She waited, but nothing came. It wasn't until a teardrop fell on his face that she realised she was crying again, soundlessly, and in some ways it felt as though she might be dying also. With a dull ache she recalled all their times spent together, the initial mistrust and confusion, the brief period when she thought they were on the same side, the joy and relief of finding someone who finally understood. And then there was Luc, and Jensen, and a thousand reasons to hate him, her nemesis, her counterpart, her… what was it that Richard had said? _Soulmate._

She thought that she did hate him.

_I'm sorry, Tru, I'd love to help you, really, I would, but… I'm afraid I'm gonna have to hear you say those two magic words._

"Help me, Jack," she whispered, looking away. "If I thought that was going to help I would say it until the sun went down. _Help me._ But… I guess you can't hear me now."

She was getting to her feet when he reached up and grabbed her by the hand. She turned with a gasp, her heart leaping to her throat.

He was looking at her, the self-amused expression still evident in his eyes. His hand was gripping hers, so tightly that it hurt, and she thought she felt something flow through them; something that was warm and cold at the same time, crackling with energy that was as familiar to her as her own body.

"_Make everything right, Tru,"_ he said.

Her surroundings dissolved like someone had splashed turpentine over paint. But this time, the rewind felt different to anything else she had ever experienced. She could still feel his hand grasping hers, a surge of power rushing between them, the impact of it taking her breath away as images rushed before her eyes, a dizzying panoply of sounds and pictures, many of which she didn't even recognise. Her body felt as though it were spinning out of control, hurtling through space, as though she were watching stars exploding into glittering flame, as though her power was burning itself up, completely, so that nothing will remain after this.

His hand slipped away and everything slowed to a stop.

**-----**

Jack jerked awake with a rattling gasp, sending his empty shot glass clattering onto the floor. He looked around in disorientation, pressing a hand to his chest as though he expected to find there a gaping bullet wound.

He was sitting at a bar, in the far corner, away from everybody else. Nevertheless laughter rang out all around him, discordant but joyous. On the other side of the room, a woman was rounding up the revellers. "It's time to start the countdown!" she shouted, pointing to the screen fixed to one corner of the ceiling. The ball above Times Square was poised to drop.

**-----**

Tru woke to the sound of her cell phone ringing. Her vision swimming in and out of focus, she bolted upright and looked around wildly.

She was in Harrison's new apartment. Her brother was standing in the kitchenette, laughing at something Avery had just said. On the other side of the room, Tyler was sampling cheese cubes. Shaking violently from head to toe, she answered her phone, which was still ringing.

"Tru? It's Davis. The date was a total bust… did you know Carrie was allergic to shellfish?"

"Davis," she demanded, "it's New Year's Eve? What time is it?"

"Nearly midnight," he sounded disgruntled. "What's wrong? Did you just have a rewind…?"

"I'll talk to you later," she murmured, flipping the phone shut.

For she had just seen, beyond the sliding glass door and gauze curtains, the two figures standing out on the balcony, leaning against the rusty railing, silhouetted against the night sky glittering with city lights.

"Dad," she whispered. "Jensen."

"Tru," Harrison sauntered over with a mimosa in one hand. "Glad to see you likin' my new couch! You fell asleep." Following her gaze, he chuckled. "Yeah, your new boyfriend went to talk to dad out of his own free will. Pretty bold, I say. He must really like you."

"It doesn't matter," she said, still staring. She could feel a gentle vibration running across the surface of her skin, a feeling of certainty. "I know what I have to do to make everything right."

"What?" Harrison's confused voice sounded very distant as she continued to gaze at Jensen and Richard, making no move toward them.

"I'm sorry," she whispered as an unearthly metallic screeching filled the air. "I understand now."

And she watched, immobile save for the tears flowing down her face, as the railing gave away.

**-----**

**Epilogue**

The morning of Jensen's funeral dawned cold and bright. It was January 3rd, and there had been no more rewinds.

The service went smoothly, and Tru finally met his parents. His father was a distinguished-looking man, whose solemn expression and silver-streaked hair brought her own father to mind. His mother seemed to have shed all her tears prior to the funeral, and now she only sat there, mute and dry eyed, accepting everybody's condolences with calm disinterest.

Afterward, the black-clad mourners milled around, going up to the casket for their last goodbyes. Tru found herself standing apart from them as she looked around: Carrie and Davis were standing on the fringe of the crowd, not having known Jensen all that well; Harrison was conversing quietly with Avery, with a consoling arm wrapped around her shoulder.

"Hey," said a voice beside her.

"Jack," she didn't turn around. "You came."

"Well, everything considered," he looked toward the casket. "It was only fair to show."

She nodded, noticing his long black coat, grey shirt and tie. "You wore that to Luc's funeral, too."

There was a moment of silence. "I…" he said quietly. "I don't know what to say about that."

"Neither do I," she shrugged and looked away. "In the grander scheme of things, I guess it doesn't - "

"It _does _matter," he said. "I know it does. And I don't expect you to forgive me for it." He swallowed, glancing toward her. "But I want to tell you... I _am _sorry. I never felt good about it, not even when..." he looked away again. "Not ever."

"We can work on forgiveness," she said softly, her eyes trained on the distance.

He nodded. After a pause he asked, "And Richard's funeral…?"

"Is tomorrow," she answered. "Jordan is… devastated. She really took it hard. I had to do most of the organising." Upon catching his questioning look she shrugged again. "I know. After everything he's done… but he's my father, after all. He's passed on; it's the least I could do. It's _all_ I can do."

"Does Harrison know?"

"Some things," her gaze flickered toward her brother. "I told him about what he did to mom, and the fact that he was… you know, doing what you did. Harry took it okay. He said it made sense. It was hard for him though. They were starting to get close."

"And them?" he nodded toward Davis and Carrie.

"Not yet," she sighed. "I will, though. Soon."

"Maybe we could tell them together."

There was a trace of a smile on her lips. "I'd like that."

"So," he glanced at her again. "This is how it all turned out."

"It made sense," she said slowly. "I guess. After he shot you, dad said some stuff. About how we just have to figure things out by ourselves, and do what we have to do. And I guess this was what it was about – you figured out that maybe you didn't have to restore fate the way you've been doing, and I…" she trailed off.

"And you have to learn to let fate have its way sometimes," he finished for her, his voice gentle.

She nodded. "Took us a long time to realise that."

"It's a difficult lesson to learn," he said contemplatively. "We tread a fine line, all of us, between leaving everything up to fate, and learning that we just have to let go sometimes."

"I could have saved them if I tried," she murmured. "Even now I'm not sure if I did the right thing. But I guess I'll have to live with that. I think I did. I mean, I think it was the right thing."

"I think so, too."

"You'll be coming to dad's funeral tomorrow?"

"Of course."

"Jack, your powers…"

"All gone. I can feel it. You?"

"I'm the same."

"Doesn't mean it's over, though. The calling would have passed onto someone else. A _pair_ of someone else_s_," he corrected himself. "It could be hereditary. You'll need to keep tabs on Harrison. Maybe even your sister."

"I know." A pause, and she looked at him with a faint, wistful smile. "But at least it's over for you and me."

He held her gaze this time. His eyes were green in the gilded morning light, the look in them almost resembling tenderness.

"No, Tru," he said gently as he leaned in, planting a soft kiss on her cheek.

She closed her eyes, savouring the nearness of him, the warmth of his skin. He smelled faintly of soap, damp grass, and autumn days.

"You and me?" his voice was husky beside her ear. "This is just the beginning."

She didn't realise she was holding her breath until she exhaled with a shudder, watching him pull back. "I'll see you tomorrow," he said as he turned, raising a hand in farewell.

Silently she watched as he walked away, the sun outlining him in liquid gold.

**The End**


End file.
